Harry Potter and the Return of the Four
by Freelancer
Summary: Voldemort has resurrected Salazar Slytherin! What will our friends at Hogwarts do when the only ones powerful enough to stop him won't?
1. The Heir of Slytherin

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. If it wasn't created by the great J.K. Rowling, it was inspired by her.  
  
~~~  
  
SUMMARY: Voldemort discovers an ancient spell that can be used to resurrect someone, and he uses it to bring back Salazar Slytherin. When Dumbledore and the others figure out what happened, they realize that the only way to stop them is to combine their efforts with those of the other three of the four most powerful wizards in history: Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Helga Hufflepuff. However, there were things about the Hogwarts Four that were never written about in the history books, and one secret in particular that could spell victory for Voldemort...  
  
~~~  
  
A/N: I started working on this story a while back and decided to post it to see how it does. If it's well-received, I'll try to add more soon. Enjoy.  
And yes, I DO have a strange obsession with Nicolas Flamel.  
  
~~~  
  
CHAPTER ONE: THE HEIR OF SLYTHERIN  
  
Deep in a dark forest, hundreds of miles away from the nearest living person, a lone figure was making his way through the thick underbrush. He was like a shadow as he moved, concealed underneath a black cloak and making almost no sound as he walked. There were none in the wizarding world who did not know his name. The Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, You-Know-Who, Lord Voldemort - it didn't matter what he was called. What mattered was what, or rather, who he was: Tom Marvolo Riddle, the Heir of Slytherin.  
  
Voldemort, as he now called himself, soon arrived at his destination: a small clearing in the trees with a large black cauldron in the middle of the open area. A fire was burning underneath the cauldron, and the dark green liquid inside it was at a full boil. Voldemort smiled to himself. Everything was in place.  
  
Voldemort's hand reached into his cloak, and he pulled out several long, white, wispy shreds of snake skin. This was no ordinary snake skin, though - it was the skin of a horrible snake-like creature known as a Basilisk. The Basilisk had been killed five years ago by one of Voldemort's more powerful enemies, a boy named Harry Potter, but Voldemort had taken the skin long before the death of the creature with this moment in mind. It was time, and not even Harry Potter would be able to counter what he had in store.  
  
His hand dropped the Basilisk skin into the cauldron. The liquid hissed and turned red with the addition of the new ingredient. Voldemort then retrieved something else from inside his cloak - a dagger. He pushed back the sleeve on his left arm, exposing the pale skin beneath. The blade of the dagger went to his arm, and Voldemort carved his full name, Tom Marvolo Riddle, into his skin. Blood came seeping out of the wound. He held his arm over the cauldron and allowed several drops of blood to fall into the brew.  
  
Voldemort pushed his sleeve down and took several steps backward. The spell was almost complete. There was just one more step that had to be performed. He began reciting an incatation that until now, had never been heard before.  
  
"The moon is high  
The time is right  
One long gone  
Will return this night  
The world has changed  
It now hangs by a thread  
I am faced with no choice  
But to bring you back from the dead  
Your Basilisk has fallen  
Its skin I add to this brew  
Its sacrifice was not in vain  
For you shall live anew  
And I, your heir, add my blood  
To cleanse our world of the mud  
I declare that you shall live again  
Acotta Leiondar, Salazar Slytherin!"  
  
The cauldron exploded.  
  
~~~  
  
At that same instant, hundreds of miles away, the boy named Harry Potter was jolted awake as excruciating pain ripped through his head. His scar was the source of the pain, and it hurt so bad it felt like his head was going to explode. He couldn't even think. All he could do was cry out in agony.  
  
Harry's cry woke up his best friend, Ron Weasley, as well as the other three boys in the Gryffindor dormitory where the seventh-years slept. Ron darted over to Harry's bed and began shaking him. "Harry!" he said. "Harry, what's wrong!"  
  
Harry tumbled out of bed and landed on the floor. Ron knelt down beside him. The other three boys got out of bed and crowded around them. "My scar!" Harry managed to say through clenched teeth. His eyes started to water, and he squeezed them shut. A moment later, he began hyperventilating.  
  
"Get Dumbledore!" Ron shouted to the nearest person, which happened to be the Head Boy, Neville Longbottom.  
  
"I'll go," offered Seamus Finnigan. He had been officially dubbed the fastest runner in school last year, after an incident involving bad aim with his wand and a Slytherin named Draco Malfoy.  
  
"Someone go!" Ron said over Harry's cries of pain. He was starting to panic. Harry's scar had hurt him before, but never had anyone seen him suffer like this.  
  
Seamus took off, and almost ran over a group of sixth-years who had been awoken by all the commotion and wanted to see what was going on. Neville announced that he was going to get Professor McGonagall, the head of Gryffindor house. Dean Thomas offered to go get the school nurse, Madam Pomfrey. Ron acknowledged both of their statements with a nod of his head, and the two boys sprinted out of the room.  
  
Ron reached for Harry's hand and gripped it tightly. It was slippery from sweat. "It's okay, Harry," he said, rubbing his friend's raven-black hair reassuringly. "Seamus is getting Dumbledore, and Neville and Dean are getting McGonagall and Pomfrey."  
  
Harry said something, but Ron couldn't catch it. "Ifanor!" Harry said again, only slightly more articulately. His voice was too constricted with pain for his words to make any sense.  
  
"What's wrong with him?" asked one of the sixth-years, a tall, burly boy named Rick Lyons who was a Chaser on the Quidditch team.  
  
"It's the scar," said Ron. "It's hurting him."  
  
"Ifinnor!" said Harry.  
  
"What's he trying to say?" inquired another sixth-year, Bodie Miller by name.  
  
Ron shook his head. "I don't know."  
  
A long, painful minute slowly passed, and then Neville burst into the room with Minerva McGonagall in tow. "Professor McGonagall!" Ron exclaimed. He wondered where Seamus was and why he hadn't gotten there with Dumbledore yet.  
  
Minerva sprinted over to the crowd of boys around Ron and Harry. They stepped aside to let her through, and she dropped to her knees next to the suffering boy. "How long has he been like this, Mr. Weasley?" she asked.  
  
"A little over two minutes," Ron answered. "He's been trying to say something, but we can't understand what."  
  
Minerva touched Harry's forehead. It was burning hot, red, and throbbing. She reached up onto his bed, pulled off his pillow, and slid it under his head. She then transformed his scarf, draped over a nearby chair, into a wet rag and placed it on his forehead. Ron was certain he heard a sizzling sound as the cold cloth touched Harry's hot skin.  
  
At that moment, Seamus arrived with the school's headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. The two of them broke into the circle. Dumbledore began talking to Minerva, while Ron asked what took them so long. Seamus mumbled something about a staircase.  
  
"I've never seen it this bad, Albus," Minerva said. "He can barely even breathe."  
  
Dumbledore had seen people suffer as Harry was right now before, but that was under the Cruciatus Curse. "Giffanor!" Harry choked.  
  
"What's he saying?" asked Neville.  
  
"It sounds like 'Gryffindor'," Dumbledore said. "He's trying to fight this by calling upon the name of Gryffindor."  
  
The head of Gryffindor house looked at the headmaster. "Albus-"  
  
"All over it, Minerva," he said, and then whispered, "Accio Gryffindor."  
  
A moment later, something came flying through the window. It was a sword, with rubies in its handle of gold. Dumbledore held up his hand to slow the sword down, and then motioned downward to lower the sword to the floor. This beautiful and mysterious artifact had once belonged to the house's founder, Godric Gryffindor. Dumbledore took Harry's free hand and closed the young man's fingers around the handle. "GRYFFINDOR!" Harry shouted in a voice loud enough to be heard all the way to the Quidditch pitch.  
  
About half a minute passed before anyone moved. Then, Harry opened his eyes and said weakly, "He's back."  
  
~~~  
  
When the smoke cleared, Voldemort found himself looking a tall, dark-haired, brown-eyed man clad in robes of green and silver. In his right hand, he held a staff with a silver snake head at the top. His left hand was in a fist held to his chest. Slowly, he pulled his hand away from his chest and opened his fist. Several long, white, wispy shreds of snakeskin fluttered to the ground.  
  
The Dark Lord smiled triumphantly. "Welcome back, Salazar Slytherin." 


	2. The Heir of Hufflepuff

CHAPTER TWO: THE HEIR OF HUFFLEPUFF  
  
~~~  
  
"What did Harry mean by 'he's back'?" Minerva McGonagall asked as she and Albus Dumbledore walked back to their rooms. "Was he talking about Voldemort?"  
  
Dumbledore shook his head. "I don't think so," he said. Voldemort had been 'back' for quite some time and was in hiding somewhere.  
  
"Then who?" She hated not having an answer, and even more so when the welfare of her students was at stake.  
  
He had an idea, but it was ludicrous. "I don't know for certain," he said. "All I know is that something about Gryffindor's sword helped ease his pain, and that could mean a number of things." It certainly didn't have to mean... No. That was impossible.  
  
Minerva caught on to what he was hinting at, and a horrified look crossed her face. "Do you mean... but how is that possible?"  
  
"I never said it was, Minerva."  
  
"Then what could it be, Albus?" she said. Slowly but surely, her worry was breaking down her control. "The last time Harry faced Voldemort, he said something about a grand master plan. What if this is it?"  
  
"I think you're overreacting."  
  
"Overreacting?" Minerva repeated. By now, she was bordering on hysteria. "A student of my house endures suffering so great it could be mistaken for the Cruciatus Curse, and the only thing that can stop it is calling upon the name of the one wizard the ancestor of his enemy feared! Yes, Albus, I think I AM overreacting!"  
  
Dumbledore stopped walking and put his hand on her shoulder, causing her to stop as well. She covered her face with her hands and stepped away from him. She hated anyone seeing her in an emotional moment, even her closest friend.  
  
He placed a hand on her back. She was trembling. The incident was disturbing her more than she had let on initially. "What are we going to do?" she asked. Her voice was shaking as much as her body. She turned back toward him. Her face was full of concern and just a hint of fear.  
  
Dumbledore wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly. Eventually, her shaking stopped. "I have an idea," he said. "It's not much, but it's somewhere to start."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"We should go to Nicolas Flamel."  
  
"Nicolas Flamel?" Minerva repeated. "Albus, I know he's a great wizard, but what could he possibly do in this situation?"  
  
"If Gryffindor and Slytherin are somehow connected to this, he'll be able to offer a better explanation that anyone else in the world," Dumbledore answered. "No one knows more about the Hogwarts Four than he does."  
  
"What makes him such an expert?"  
  
"His grandmother was Helga Hufflepuff."  
  
~~~  
  
Dumbledore sent an owl to Nicolas Flamel first thing in the morning. Flamel sent his reply that afternoon. He was more than willing to help in any way that he could. Dumbledore then owled Flamel with a message saying that he and Minerva would come to him the next afternoon.  
  
Harry hadn't gotten much better. Gryffindor's sword had to be close by at all times or his head would start throbbing again. He also had a dream from which he woke up screaming. The dream had been a recreation of his experience in the Chamber of Secrets his second year. However, instead of pulling Godric Gryffindor's sword out of the Sorting Hat, Harry pulled out his head. Then Tom Riddle, the Basilisk, and the statue of Salazar Slytherin began laughing. Harry couldn't go to sleep after that because every time he closed his eyes, he saw Gryffindor's head and heard evil laughter in Parseltongue. Madam Pomfrey insisted on relocating him to the hospital wing.  
  
~~~  
  
Nicolas Flamel and his wife, Perenelle, lived ina cottage on a small plot of land outside Devon. The late November air was crisp and cool as Hogwarts's headmaster and deputy headmistress walked up the stone path leading to the front door. A light rain began to fall, but a simple charm kept them dry. They reached the door, and Dumbledore knocked. It was answered by a dark green house-elf with big brown eyes. "Master Dumbledore! Mistress McGonagall!" the elf exclaimed. "Please come in! Master and Mistress Flamel have been expecting you."  
  
The elf led them into the den, where Perenelle Flamel was sitting on a couch upholstered with red velvet. She rose when her two visitors entered the room and gave them a weary smile. Their supply of Elixir of Life had run out about two years ago, and it wouldn't be long before age caught up to her husband and herself and mortality claimed them. "Good to see you, Professors," she said. "Nicolas should be along in a minute."  
  
"No, he's here now," came a voice from behind.  
  
Dumbledore and Minerva turned around. Flamel was standing behind them, hsi emerald green eyes sparkling brightly. "Good to see you, Albus," he said, embracing his longtime friend.  
  
"Same to you, Nicolas," Dumbledore returned. He was surprised at how much weaker Flamel's grip had gotten since the last time they had seen each other, about six months ago. His body was clearly feeling the effects of the rapid aging that had befallen him since he stopped taking the Elixir of Life.  
  
Flamel smiled warmly at Minerva. "And you, too, Professor McGonagall. I wish we could take the time to get to know each other. Albus speaks of you often, and has a rather high opinion of you."  
  
"He does, does he?" Minerva asked, casting her superior a suspicious look.  
  
"Come in and sit down," Perenelle said, motioning to a couch identical to the one she had been sitting in directly across a mahogany coffee table from its twin.  
  
"Shall I fetch some tea, Mistress Flamel?" the house-elf asked.  
  
"Yes, please," said Perenelle. "Thank you, Buckle."  
  
Flamel sat down next to his wife. Their visitors seated themselves in the couch across from them. Buckle returned to the room with four cups of tea. "So, Albus," Flamel said, "what was it you wanted to discuss?"  
  
Dumbledore took a sip of his tea, and then set the cup and saucer down on the table. "I'm sure you are both familiar with the story of a Hogwarts student named Harry Potter," he said, and the Flamels nodded. "Because of what happened when he was one year old and various incidents since then, along with his own natural powers, he is very perceptive dark magic. Two nights ago, the scar on his forehead began hurting. It hurts him when danger is nearby, and although this has happened before, it has never been this bad. He woke up half of the Gryffindor tower with his cries, and his friends had to send for Professor McGonagall and myself."  
  
Flamel nodded in understanding. "Interesting. Go on."  
  
"I've never seen him suffer as much as he did that night," Dumbledore continued. "If I didn't know any better, I would have thought someone used the Cruciatus Curse on him."  
  
"Intense suffering," Flamel said thoughtfully. "And what ended it?"  
  
"The only thing that could stop his pain," Minerva said, "was calling upon the name of Gryffindor and having Gryffindor's sword in his hand."  
  
Flamel had been taking a sip of tea at the time Minerva spoke, and he was so surprised that he started choking. Perenelle had to slap him on the back to get him breathing again. "Gryffindor?" he repeated when he was able to.  
  
"Yes, Gryffindor," Minerva confirmed. "What could it mean?"  
  
"It can only mean one thing, Professor," Flamel replied. "Harry's enemy, Lord Voldemort, is the last remaining descendent of Salazar Slytherin. Slytherin's enemy was Godric Gryffindor. That's why calling upon the name of Gryffindor stopped his pain, and that's what caused it in the first place: Salazar Slytherin is back."  
  
For almost a full minute, Dumbledore, Minerva, and Perenelle were too shocked to speak. Even Buckle ceased to move. Finally, Minerva broke the silence. "How is that possible?" she asked in a trembling voice.  
  
"There is a spell that can be used to bring back someone who has long since left this world, but it is so difficult and dangerous that I have never heard of it actually being performed," Flamel said. "Only a very powerful, very reckless wizard who has nothing to lose would dare attempt it."  
  
Dumbledore nodded. That sounded like Voldemort, all right.  
  
"So Voldemort has brought Salazar Slytherin back to life?" Minerva asked.  
  
"It would appear so, Professor McGonagall," Flamel replied. "I can think of o other reason why young Potter would suffer in such a way that you have described."  
  
"What options do we have, Nicolas?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
Flamel shook his head sadly. "Not many, I'm afraid. Salazar Slytherin is the most powerful wizard who ever lived. The only ones strong enough to overpower him were..." He stopped talking as an idea came to him, and a twinkle of excitement appeared in his green eyes.  
  
Dumbledore caught the look. "Are you thinking what I think you're thinking?"  
  
"Probably," Flamel replied with a smile. "Come to my study."  
  
~~~  
  
While Flamel and Dumbledore sat at a table and poured through an ancient spellbook, Minerva studied a large portait that hung over the fireplace in the study. It was of a man, a woman, and three children. Minerva knew at once who the woman was - Flamel's grandmother, Helga Hufflepuff. The man had to be her husband, Daniel Flamel, Nicolas's grandfather. One of the children, a boy, looked exactly like his parents - blonde hair and green eyes. Minerva concluded that it must be Robert, Nicolas's father. The other two were twin girls that looked nothing like the rest of the family. Both of them looked several years older than Robert and had dark brown hair and blue eyes. Could they possibly be related to anyone else in that portrait?  
  
"Here it is," Flamel said as he and Dumbledore located the spell they were looking for. "Acotta Leiondar, the resurrection spell. Quite possibly the most difficult and dangerous spell known to the wizarding world."  
  
"'Acotta Leiondar'?" Minerva repeated, stepping away from the portait and joining the two men at the table. "What does that mean?"  
  
"It's from Antelenic, the ancient language of wizards," Flamel explained. "Roughly translated, it means 'live again'."  
  
Minerva knew very little about Antelenic. She didn't know much more than that it was a very difficult language and died out shortly before the fall of the Persian Empire. Only the most powerful and dangerous spells in existence had Antelenic words in them.  
  
Flamel skimmed over the ingredients list and said, "Yes, Albus, I think the three of us just might be able to do this. Some of these ingredients may be hard to find, though."  
  
"Which ones?" asked Dumbledore.  
  
"Blood of a descendent and something that belonged to the person being resurrected," Flamel answered. "Helga Hufflepuff will be easy. It is my understanding that her wand is in a trophy case in the Hufflepuff common room, and I am her last living descendent. However, I'm not so sure about Godric Gryffindor and Rowena Ravenclaw."  
  
"Why is that?" asked Dumbledore. "Did either one of them have children?"  
  
"No one is certain," Flamel replied. "Ravenclaw was supposed to marry someone, but no one knows who. And Gryffindor..." He shook his head sadly. "Both of them are rather tragic figures, I'm afraid. My grandmother died twenty years before I was born, so I never heard anything first-hand, but my father would often tell me stories she told to him and my aunts, whom you probably noticed in that portait, Professor McGonagall. Gryffindor was battling a dark wizard by the name of Kedelor. Kedelor used the Killing Curse on him. Ravenclaw died a week later. Some say Kedelor killed her, others say she died of a broken heart, and still others believe she killed herself. What is known for certain, though, is that she and Gryffindor were the very best of friends, not unlike you two, Professors."  
  
Minerva walked back over to the portrait and studied it carefully. "The two girls in this portrait, are they your aunts?"  
  
Flamel nodded. "Yes. Their names are Christine and Julianne."  
  
"Flamel?"  
  
He nodded again.  
  
"They don't look a thing like your father and grandparents."  
  
"I'm not surprised," Flamel said. "My grandfather found them in an abandoned hut outside of what is now Edinburgh not long after they were born."  
  
"Flamel, do you know exactly what Godric Gryffindor and Rowena Ravenclaw looked like?"  
  
"Yes," Flamel answered. "Both were very tall. Gryffindor was over seven feet tall, and Ravenclaw was just a few inches shorter. Gryffindor had blonde hair and blue eyes. Ravenclaw had black hair and brown eyes."  
  
"When did Gryffindor die?"  
  
Flamel had no idea where she was going with this, but answered the question anyway. "August eighth, 1264."  
  
"And Ravenclaw died on August fifteenth, 1263," Minerva said. "When did your grandfather find Christine and Julianne?"  
  
Now he was starting to understand. "August sixteenth, 1264. They were just hours old."  
  
"There you have it," said Minerva. "The reason Christine and Julianne have dark hair is because they inherited it from their mother, Rowena Ravenclaw."  
  
"But the eyes," Dumbledore said, stepping up to Minerva. "Ravenclaw had brown eyes, a dominant trait. These girls have blue eyes, which is a recessive gene." Both of them knew enough about genetics to know that.  
  
"Godric Gryffindor had blue eyes, Albus," Minerva said. "He was a homozygeous recessive. She was probably a heterozygeous dominant. If that's the case, then their children would have a one in two chance of having blue eyes. Christine and Julianne have dark hair and blue eyes. Ravenclaw had dark hair. Gryffindor had blue eyes. His death destroyed her. Isn't it obvious? Godric Gryffindor and Rowena Ravenclaw were involved in some way, marriage or otherwise, and the twin girls Daniel Flamel found were their children, who were orphaned after their mother died, most likely giving birth or shortly after. Find the descendents of the girls and you'll find the descendents of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw."  
  
Flamel looked at Dumbledore. "She's good."  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, she's very good." 


	3. The Heir of Gryffindor

CHAPTER THREE: THE HEIR OF GRYFFINDOR  
  
~~~  
  
Harry Potter had been in the hospital wing since waking up from his nightmare. Madam Pomfrey insisted on keeping him there until a reason for his pain was discovered and a cure was found. Gryffindor's sword could put a temporary end to it, but Harry could only let go of it for a few hours before the pain returned. The school nurse was extremely annoyed by this; she hated the idea of having a foreign object like the sword in there contaminating the sterile environment.  
  
Harry's friends visited him whenever they could, Ron especially. Harry's other best friend, Hermione Granger, who was Head Girl and Ron's girlfriend, visited him often as well. The two of them were in there with him when Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall returned from visiting the Flamels.  
  
"Were you able to find anything out, Professors?" Harry asked when he saw the headmaster and deputy headmistress enter the room and walk toward him.  
  
"Yes, we've been somewhat successful," Dumbledore answered, and summarized what they had learned on their outing.  
  
Harry's eyes grew wide with amazement as Dumbledore spoke. "So Voldemort brought Salazar Slytherin back to life, and you plan to bring the other three back in the same way?"  
  
"We hope to," Minerva said. "Hufflepuff will be relatively easy, as her wand is in the Hufflepuff common room and we have a descendent in Nicolas Flamel. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw will be much harder."  
  
"But if the girls in the portrait were indeed their children," Hermione said, "then it shouldn't be too difficult to find their descendents."  
  
"Difficult, no," said Dumbledore. "Time-consuming, yes. We don't know how long it will be before Voldemort and Slytherin strike, and we certainly do not have any time to waste on something that could turn out to be a wild goose chase."  
  
"Flamel has volunteered to track down any potential descendents," Minerva added. "The hardest part will probably be convincing them to help us. The spell is difficult, dangerous, and rather painful for its casters."  
  
"Why?" asked Ron. "What do you have to do?"  
  
"Well, Mr. Weasley, at one point in the spell, the descendent must carve their full name into their arm and let the blood drip into the cauldron. Plus, if you aren't really a descendent, the spell will kill you."  
  
Ron turned slightly pale.  
  
"That would do it, wouldn't it?" Harry asked with a grin. He then felt a slight twinge of pain run through his head, and instinctively pressed his palm to his scar.  
  
In an instant, Madam Pomfrey was at his bedside. "Are you all right, Potter?" she asked. "How strong is it? How long has it been hurting? Out of here at once, all of you!"  
  
"It's okay, Madam Pomfrey," said Harry. "I just need the sword... now where did it go..."  
  
Ron spotted the sword lying on the floor. "Here it is," he said, and tried to pick it up. It was surprisingly heavy, and he had to use both hands to get it to Harry. "That's funny; it doesn't look like it would be that heavy."  
  
"What are you talking about?" Harry asked. "I'd say my wand weighs more than this sword." He easily picked it up with one hand.  
  
A surprised look crossed Dumbledore's face. He clutched Minerva's arm and said, "Are you serious, Harry?"  
  
Harry nodded. "Why? Does that mean something?"  
  
"Albus, you're cutting off circulation," said Minerva.  
  
"Sorry," Dumbledore said, and let go of her arm. "Ron, was it difficult for you to lift the sword?"  
  
Ron nodded. "You saw, Professor. I had to use both hands."  
  
"And everyone knows Ron's stronger than I am," Harry added.  
  
Ron's face turned as red as his hair. Hermione giggled.  
  
Dumbledore turned to his second. "I'm going to Flamel," he said. "Good-bye." Without another word or any form of explanation at all, he walked out of the room as fast as he could.  
  
No one spoke until the door closed behind the headmaster. Harry looked at Minerva and asked, "What was that about, Professor McGonagall?"  
  
Minerva shook her head. "I don't know, Harry. That man can be very difficult to understand sometimes."  
  
~~~  
  
"Velvet supernova."  
  
The portrait of the Fat Lady swung open, and Neville Longbottom and Parvati Patil stepped into the Gryffindor common room. The two of them were hiding from a group of Hufflepuff girls who wanted to tie up Parvati and kidnap Neville. Parvati was Neville's girlfriend, and had been since the summer before their fifth year, long before Neville gained eight inches and a six-pack and became a registered Animagus. Needless to say, he was quite the heartthrob.  
  
"I don't understand it, Parvati," Neville said, flopping down on a couch. "When did this happen?"  
  
"Between fifth and sixth year," Parvati answered, sitting down next to him, "when you hit that growth spurt your grandmother knew would happen someday."  
  
"No, I mean when did a bunch of girls decide to start stalking me?"  
  
She grinned. "Like I said, that summer between fifth and sixth year... and being Head Boy and a seventeen-year-old Animagus doesn't hurt. Not everyone can change into a lynx, you know." Then she winked.  
  
Neville sighed. "I'd rather be able to turn invisible."  
  
Parvati leaned over and kissed him, and then spotted something moving on the mantel over the fireplace. A surprised look crossed her face. "Is that Trevor?"  
  
Neville groaned. "Trevor!" He stood up and walked over to the fireplace. Trevor croaked and jumped onto Neville's chest. Neville wasn't expecting this, and he was so surprised that he fell over backwards. Trevor hopped off him and went over to Parvati, who was laughing so hard she was nearly in tears.  
  
"Come here, Trevor," Parvati said, and picked up the toad. She then carried him over to where Neville was sitting on the floor and sat down next to her boyfriend. "He didn't mean it, Neville." She held Trevor out to him. "See? He says he's very sorry and he'll never do it again."  
  
"You know, Parvati, if it wasn't for you, I probably would have killed Trevor a long time ago."  
  
Parvati let out another round of clear, melodious laughter. "It's times like this when I'm even more glad the Sorting Hat put me in Gryffindor and not Ravenclaw with Padma."  
  
"You got something against Ravenclaw?" Neville asked teasingly.  
  
"Don't get me wrong," Parvati said. "I love Ravenclaw."  
  
At that moment, the fireplace slid about three inches to the left, revealing the entrance to a secret passage.  
  
For almost a minute, Neville and Parvati could just stare at the opening. Neville finally swallowed his surprise and said, "A secret passage."  
  
Parvati nodded.  
  
"Do you think we should see where it goes?"  
  
She smiled. "Definitely."  
  
The two seventh-years stood up. Neville walked over to the fireplace. Parvati set Trevor down in a chair, told him to be careful, and then joined Neville at the fireplace. "Help me push," he said, and together, they pushed the fireplace back just far enough for them to squeeze through.  
  
The passage was only about four feet wide, but at least ten feet high, so they didn't feel too crowded. It was also very dark. If it were not for the few rays of light coming from the Gryffindor common room by way of the opening they went through, it would be too dark to see one's hand in front of one's face. "Let's get some light in here," Parvati suggested, and pulled out her wand. "Lumos."  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
"That's funny," Neville said. "Try it again."  
  
She did, and again, nothing happened. "Stupid wand," she grumbled. "Why don't you change into your Animagus form? A lynx should be able to see in here."  
  
Neville tried to transform, but could not. "What's going on?" he asked. "That's the first time I haven't been able to transform since I was registered."  
  
"Something about this tunnel probably prevents anyone inside from performing magic," Parvati realized. "Let's just follow it until we can't see anymore. It probably won't be very far."  
  
About twenty feet into the tunnel was a corner, and hardly anything could be seen past that. "Let's go back," Neville said when they reached the corner.  
  
"Wait!" Parvati said, grabbing onto his arm. "There's a door!"  
  
Neville spotted it, too, and got a better idea. "On second though, let's get a lantern."  
  
~~~  
  
"Back already, Albus?" Nicolas Flamel commented as Buckle the house-elf led Albus Dumbledore into his study.  
  
"I've made an interesting discovery," Dumbledore said.  
  
Flamel smiled weakly. "Well, that's good to hear. I've traced Christine's lineage to about the middle of the fifteenth century, but I don't know how lucky we're going to be with this. We can't prove that Christine and Julianne were Gryffindor and Ravenclaw's children, or even one or the other. I never heard anything about Ravenclaw being pregnant, and although there have been rumors that Gryffindor was married at some point, there are no confirmations. We have to be realistic, Albus. We're going to be asking people to risk their lives for something we don't even know for certain. All we have is Professor McGonagall's hunch."  
  
"Minerva would never have come to that conclusion if she didn't believe there was logic behind it," Dumbledore said.  
  
"What was your 'interesting discovery'?"  
  
He'd almost forgotten why he came there in his zeal to defend Minerva's judgement. "Nicolas, do you know who gave Godric Gryffindor his sword?"  
  
Flamel looked mildly surprised. "Albus, you know the answer to that as well as I do. It was Rowena Ravenclaw."  
  
"Right. And Ravenclaw put several charms on it, including one that would make it feel light as a feather to anyone who had Gryffindor blood in them, but heavy to anyone else."  
  
"Where are you going with this?"  
  
Dumbledore's blue eyes sparkled brightly. "Harry Potter said it felt like his wand weighed more than the sword. We've found him, Nicolas. Harry Potter is the heir of Gryffindor." 


	4. The Heir of Ravenclaw

CHAPTER FOUR: THE HEIR OF RAVENCLAW  
  
~~~  
  
Parvati stood in front of the entrance to the secret passage while Neville went to find a lantern. It didn't take him long, and when he returned (with Dean Thomas's lantern - he made Parvati promise not to tell him and that it would be back before Dean knew it was gone), the two of them stole back into the dark tunnel. The light illuminated their path well enough for them to find the door again with little difficulty.  
  
Upon reaching the door, the two of them noticed something carved into the wood. Neville held the lantern up while Parvati leaned in toward the door for a closer look. "It looks like a griffin," she said. "Body of a lion, head of an eagle."  
  
"What does that mean?"  
  
Parvati snorted. "You're asking the wrong person. Maybe if we could figure out how to open this door... but there's no handle, and magic doesn't seem to work in here."  
  
"Maybe it slides, like the fireplace," Neville suggested.  
  
She hadn't even thought of that. She placed her hands on the door and pushed to the side as hard as she could. The door swung open with almost no effort, and since there was no longer any resistance, Parvati's momentum caused her to fall forward onto the floor.  
  
"Are you all right?" Neville asked, dropping to his knees beside her.  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied, and stood up, giving her robes a shake to straighten them out.  
  
Neville stood, too, and held the lantern up high, casting its soft light all over the small room. Two ancient-looking chairs were in a corner, and on one wall was a bookcase. Parvati walked over to the bookcase and looked over its contents. "I've seen some of these titles before," she said, "in the History of Magic classroom. Binns never let anyone touch them because they were so old; over seven hundred years.  
  
"Weird," said Neville, and joined her at the bookcase. Do you think this is some kind of storage room?"  
  
"In a secret passage behind the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room? I don't think so."  
  
Neville spotted a wooden box lying on one of the shelves, and decided to pick it up. He shook it. Something rattled inside. It sounded like paper.  
  
"What's that?" Parvati asked.  
  
He opened the box. A stack of papers was tied together with some string. He picked up the papers and looked at them closely. "They're letters," he realized. "Really old letters."  
  
"Who wrote them, and who are they to?"  
  
"Let's find out." He untied the string and removed the top letter from the pile. He then set the lantern on a shelf, and they began to read.  
  
My dearest love,  
It was so good to hear from you. I hope that all is going well at Hogwarts. There is nothing I desire more than to return and look upon you again, my dearest Rowena, and when Kedelor is no longer a threat, nothing will hold me back. Tell Helga and Daniel not to worry. It won't be much longer.  
We lost four more today. Some have started to lose hope, but most remain strong. They told me that I have inspired them to believe that we will triumph over my enemy, but it is you from where their motivation truly comes, for it is the thought of being with you, my cherished wife, that keeps your faithful husband believing there is something in this world still worth saving. Believe, my beloved Rowena, and nothing can stop us; no villain, no force of man or nature, not even death.  
I remain yours forever,  
Godric  
  
When Neville reached the end of the letter, he was so surprised that he almost dropped it. "Parvati," he choked, "this letter has to be from Godric Gryffindor. Who else could it be?"  
  
"And this Rowena lady must have been his wife," Parvati assumed. Then, she gasped. "Neville, do you think it was Rowena Ravenclaw?"  
  
He put the letters back in the box and stuffed the entire thing into his pocket. He then grabbed the lantern and said, "We have to show these to Dumbledore. The history of Hogwarts is never going to be the same."  
  
~~~  
  
It was late by the time Dumbledore returned to Hogwarts. On the way to his chambers, he passed by the Transfiguration classroom, and was surprised to see Minerva McGonagall sitting behind her desk, going over some papers. Minerva had always been something of a workaholic, but even she knew the importance of getting sleep. He poked his head into the room and said, "Good night, Minerva."  
  
Minerva looked startled for a moment, but relaxed when she saw that it was him. "Hello, Albus," she said. "What did you and Flamel discover?"  
  
"Twelve uses of dragon's blood," he replied with a grin, and stepped into the room. "You know that."  
  
A smile flickered across her face as he walked up the center aisle. "Very funny."  
  
Dumbledore chuckled. "Sorry, sorry. The opportunity was there and I had to take it."  
  
"I understand. Come here, I want you to look at something."  
  
She picked up what she had been reading and met him at the first row of desks. "Neville Longbottom and Parvati Patil discovered a secret passage behind the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, and it led them into another room, where they found these letters." She handed him one of the letters, and they both sat down. "They're from Godric Gryffindor to Rowena Ravenclaw. I was right, Albus. They were married, and it only makes sense for Christine and Julianne Flamel to be their children." She pointed to one line in the letter he was reading. "Look, in that line right there, he mentions a cottage near Edinburgh. Daniel Flamel found the girls in a cottage near Edinburgh. Ravenclaw died the day before he found them. She must have had a difficult birth with no one to help her, and died later. Did Flamel ever say where her body was found?"  
  
"They found her in a river," Dumbledore answered. "The popular theory is that she drowned."  
  
"The river could have carried her body so far from Edinburgh that a connection could never have been made," said Minerva. "I'm sure that I'm right about this. How could I not be?"  
  
He believed her before, but in light of this new evidence, he didn't see how there was any way she could be wrong. "Then that settles it," he said. "Harry has to be a descendent of them because the sword feels so light to him. It will only do that for someone who has Gryffindor blood in them. And now that there is no doubt about Gryffindor and Ravenclaw's relationship, we can ask Harry to volunteer to resurrect one of them and track down a second descendent for the other." His blue eyes sparkled with excitement. "Minerva, you are brilliant and I am going to kiss you."  
  
He placed his hands on her shoulders and planted a quick, friendly peck on her forehead. When he pulled away, she said, "There's something more, Albus. Do you remember when I was sorted into Gryffindor house way back in 1933?"  
  
"Yes, I do," he answered. "That was my first year of teaching Transfiguration. And of course I remember the Sorting Hat putting you in Gryffindor. It took it ten minutes to decide! You still hold the record, I believe."  
  
"Yes, I do," she confirmed, and smiled a little. "But anyway, why the hat took so long is because it didn't know whether to put me in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. It said something to me, something I never really understood and had all but forgotten until a few hours ago. It said, 'Should I put you in Gryffindor, or should I put you in Ravenclaw? You'd do well in either. Does Minerva McGonagall belong to the house of her father, or would she do better in her mother's house?'"  
  
"That happens a lot, Minerva," Dumbledore said. "Children of alumni often go into the house their parents were in."  
  
"But that's just it," she said. "The hat was split between putting me in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. It never mentioned another house. Both of my parents were in Hufflepuff."  
  
"In... Hufflepuff?" he repeated. "But... could that mean... Minerva! You're descended from Godric Gryffindor and Rowena Ravenclaw, too! I am going to kiss you again."  
  
He kissed her again, this time on the cheek. Minerva laughed and said, "Did you kiss Flamel, too?"  
  
"Of course not," Dumbledore replied. "He's not the one that's been making all these amazing revelations. Besides, he's too old for me." He stood up and said, "Just to make sure, let's go down to the hospital wing and see what that sword does in your hands."  
  
~~~  
  
"Still awake, Potter?"  
  
Harry Potter set down the book he was reading and saw Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall walking toward him. "I can't sleep," he said. "What was it you had to go to Nicolas Flamel for, Professor Dumbledore?"  
  
"To tell him something I realized earlier today, Harry," Dumbledore answered. "Do you have Gryffindor's sword handy?"  
  
It was lying on his bed next to him. "Right here," he said, and picked it up with one hand. "Light as a feather."  
  
"The reason the sword is so light in your hands is because you are a descendent of Godric Gryffindor," said Dumbledore.  
  
Harry's eyes grew wide with amazement. "Me?" he squeaked. "I'm a descendent of Godric Gryffindor?"  
  
"There's more," said Minerva. "You are also a descendent of Rowena Ravenclaw. She and Gryffindor were married. Their blood runs in your veins."  
  
"Can I be used to resurrect both of them?" Harry asked.  
  
Dumbledore shook his head. "No, but that's all right, for I believe we may have located another descendent."  
  
"Anyone I know?"  
  
"Yes, Harry, someone you know quite well. In fact, she's standing right here."  
  
Harry looked at Minerva. "Professor McGonagall?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"There's only one way to find out," Harry realized, and held the sword out to her. "Take the sword, Professor."  
  
Minerva took the sword from him. A tingling sensation ran through her body, and her heart rate began to accelerate with excitement. The sword weighed almost nothing in her hands. "How soon can we perform the spell, Albus?"  
  
Dumbledore was ready to explode with happiness. "Then that settles it," he said. "Flamel will bring back Hufflepuff. Harry, we'll use you for Gryffindor, and Minerva, you'll be Ravenclaw. I'll go to Flamel in the morning and let him know that we're ready. This time tomorrow, the Hogwarts Four will all live again." 


	5. Acotta Leiondar

CHAPTER FIVE: ACOTTA LEIONDAR  
  
~~~  
  
Nicolas Flamel arrived shortly after sunset. All students and faculty had been alerted to the situation and were aware of what was going to take place. Severus Snape had set to work that morning brewing up the potions for the spell in three large cauldrons in a large, empty room in the dungeons, and it was almost ready. Two crucial ingredients were still missing, though - blood of an heir and something that belonged to the one being resurrected.  
  
Flamel went to the Hufflepuff common room and retrieved his grandmother's wand. He then met the others just outside the Great Hall. "The others" consisted of Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger. Ron and Hermione insisted on being there to offer Harry what Ron called "emotional support" to help him endure what was sure to be a difficult and dangerous ordeal. Minerva had initially been against this, but when Hermione gave the ultimatum that they would either be there with Harry or be expelled, Dumbledore said they should be allowed in. Minerva reluctantly agreed.  
  
"I've revised the spell to allow us to resurrect them all at the same time instead of performing it three times," Flamel said. He handed Harry and Minerva a sheet of paper each. "This is the incantation you'll be using. I'll start, and you'll go second, Professor McGonagall. Potter, you'll finish it. The spell will take effect about ten seconds after you've finished talking. Do you both have an item that belonged to your ancestor?"  
  
Harry nodded and lifted up Gryffindor's sword for emphasis. Minerva pulled one of the letters out of her pocket and drew attention to it with a flick of her wrist.  
  
"Excellent," said Flamel. "And don't worry about the sword, Harry. The object survives the spell unscathed."  
  
Harry smiled. He had been wondering about that and was glad Flamel brought it up.  
  
Seconds after Flamel finished talking, Severus Snape approached them from the side and said in a soft, weary voice, "It's ready."  
  
~~~  
  
They followed Snape down to the dungeons. Once there, Flamel conjured up three daggers; one for himself, one for Harry, and one for Minerva. "Remember, you have to carve your full name into your left arm," he reminded them as he handed out the daggers.  
  
"Middle name, too?" Harry asked.  
  
Flamel nodded, and Minerva grimaced. Flamel looked at her and said, "You have a long name, don't you?"  
  
"Yes, and I'm left-handed, too," she replied.  
  
"What's your middle name, Professor McGonagall?" asked Hermione.  
  
"Gabriella."  
  
"Minerva Gabriella McGonagall," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "That IS a long name."  
  
"Albus Ozymandias Dumbledore isn't much shorter," she said in response. "Just one letter shorter than mine."  
  
Dumbledore's blue eyes held a look of surprise in them. "I don't recall ever telling you my middle name."  
  
A small, guilty smile appeared on Flamel's face. "That would be my doing, Albus."  
  
"What's an Ozymumbdus or whatever?" asked Ron.  
  
"Ozymandias," Minerva corrected, "was the Greek name for the Egyptian pharoh Ramses II. The Muggle poet Percy Shelley wrote a poem entitled 'Ozymandias' in 1817."  
  
"My parents were rather eccentric," Dumbledore explained.  
  
"It must run in the family," Flamel said.  
  
"Indeed," said Snape. "Are you ready?"  
  
There was a slight tremble to his voice as he spoke, and it was obvious that he was just as nervous as the rest of them. The rather light-hearted nature of their conversation had been an attempt at boosting their morale in a very serious situation, but it only succeeded for a few seconds. Flamel, who was more or less the leader of this dangerous undertaking, cleared his throat and spoke again. "Let's get in place."  
  
"Flamel, your cauldron is in the middle," said Snape. "Potter, you'll be on the left, and Minerva, yours is on the right."  
  
The three of them got into position behind their respective cauldrons. Flamel warned the observers to stand back. Snape, Dumbledore, Ron, and Hermione did as they were told and stood with their backs against the wall facing the other three. Flamel then asked Harry and Minerva if they were ready. They both nodded.  
  
"Then let's get started," he said, and dropped Helga Hufflepuff's wand into his cauldron. The formerly dark green liquid turned red, signalling that it was time to add the blood. Flamel pulled out his dagger, pushed back the sleeve on his left arm, and pressed the blade to his skin. The pain was excruciating as he carved Nicolas Robert Flamel into his skin, but he knew it would pass. The importance of their mission was worth a few minutes of agony.  
  
He held his arm over the cauldron. Several drops of his blood fell in. He took a deep breath, stepped back, and began speaking.  
  
"The moon is high  
The time is right  
One long gone  
Will return this night  
The world has changed  
It now hangs by a thread  
We are faced with no choice  
But to bring you back from the dead  
Into this brew, I add your wand  
The holly and jade you used to cast  
Your charms and spells so long ago  
Creating a legacy that will always last  
You favored those who were brave and loyal  
Hard-working, unafraid of toil  
Because only the best is ever enough  
Acotta Leiondar, Helga Hufflepuff!"  
  
The cauldron began to bubble, hiss, and shake. It wanted to explode immediately, but charms placed on it would not allow it to until Harry was finished with his part. Flamel looked at Minerva and nodded. It was her turn.  
  
Minerva took a deep breath and dropped one of the letters into her cauldron. The liquid turned red. She pushed back the sleeve on her left arm and and awkwardly held the dagger in her right hand. She wasn't used to doing any form of writing, and carving Minerva Gabriella McGonagall into her arm was no easy task as it was. She let some blood fall into the cauldron, and then began speaking.  
  
"The moon is high  
The time is right  
One long gone  
Will return this night  
The world has changed  
It now hangs by a thread  
We are faced with no choice  
But to bring you back from the dead  
I add to this concoction  
A letter from your love  
As he fought against his foes  
It was you he was thinking of  
In your eyes, the cleverest  
Would rise above the rest  
Knowledge and wisdom conquer all  
Acotta Leiondar, Rowena Ravenclaw!"  
  
Her part was done. She looked at Harry. He nodded and began.  
  
Knowing he didn't have much time before the spell broke through the charms, Harry dropped the sword into the bubbling green liquid in his cauldron, and the instant it turned red, he began carving Harry James Potter in his inner forearm. Once his full name was etched in his skin, he allowed the blood to drip into the brew. He took a step back and began the incantation.  
  
"The moon is high  
The time is right  
One long gone  
Will return this night  
The world has changed  
It now hangs by a thread  
We are faced with no choice  
But to bring you back from the dead  
These necessary risks  
We must take to bring back you  
Your fantastic sword is added  
Into this potent brew  
What you looked for, we are told  
The students who were brave and bold  
Walk upon this earth once more  
Acotta Leiondar, Godric Gryffindor!"  
  
Flamel motioned for them all to move away. They joined their companions against the far wall. Ron and Hermione had bandages for their arms ready. Ron wrapped Harry's arm, while Hermione took care of Flamel. They had given the third to Dumbledore, and he wasted no time in getting it on Minerva. Nothing happened with the cauldrons, and for a few moments, they wondered if the spell had worked. Their question was answered when the cauldrons exploded and the smoke cleared: a definite yes.  
  
Three people were standing where their cauldrons had been. In the center stood Helga Hufflepuff, holding her wand. To her left was Godric Gryffindor, with his sword in hand, and to her right, Rowena Ravenclaw, clutching the letter. Everyone in the room was completely silent and motionless for almost a minute. Finally, Flamel stepped forward and said, "Welcome back."  
  
"What has happened?" came the soft, yet commanding voice of Godric Gryffindor.  
  
"We have a crisis," Dumbledore explained. "Lord Voldemort, the most powerful dark wizard of our time, has resurrected Salazar Slytherin. We don't have the strength to stand against both of them, and you three are the only ones powerful enough to counter Slytherin."  
  
"Salazar Slytherin is not evil," said Helga Hufflepuff. Her voice was as delicate and melodious as the tinkling of silver bells. "Disagreement on certain issues led to his departure from us."  
  
"But Voldemort is evil, and he will likely trick Slytherin into helping him, if he doesn't agree of his own free will," said Harry.  
  
A concerned look crossed Gryffindor's face. Rowena Ravenclaw, who hadn't even blinked until that moment, slowly turned her regal head in Gryffindor's direction. Gryffindor closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. It seemed as though depression had suddenly overtaken him. "I'm sorry," he said. "I cannot help you." Without any further explanation, he walked out of the room. No one reacted in time to stop him.  
  
"Is there something about him we don't know that we should?" asked Hermione when Gryffindor was gone.  
  
"Yes," Rowena said. Her voice, like Helga's, was clear and had good projection, but also held a noticeable amount of sadness that was not present in the other's. "He cannot fight Slytherin. He refuses to. He would not before, he will not now."  
  
"Why is that?" asked Snape.  
  
Rowena sighed, closed her eyes, and then opened them again. "Because Salazar Slytherin is his half brother."  
  
Helga obviously knew this because she was the only person besides Rowena who still had the ability to speak after hearing that statement. She elected to remain silent while everyone else struggled to form words without success. Finally, Flamel squeaked out one word: "What?"  
  
"Salazar's father died when he was three years old," Rowena said. "Six years later, his mother married Arthur Gryffindor. Godric will not kill his brother, and I do not expect that Salazar would, either. They disagreed, yes, but they also respected and loved each other dearly."  
  
"But how can we stop them?" asked Hermione. "If Gryffindor won't kill Slytherin, and Slytherin won't kill Gryffindor, we're at an impasse."  
  
"Not quite," Dumbledore said. "We're not taking Voldemort into consideration. If Voldemort knows Gryffindor and Slytherin are brothers, he could probably find some way to twist that to his advantage."  
  
"Could we persuade Slytherin to join us against Voldemort?" Ron aksed hopefully.  
  
Helga shook her head. "It is extremely unlikely. Daniel and I tried for years to make him come back to us after Godric and Rowena died, and it only drove him further away. It might have had something to do with Godric's death." She sighed and looked at Rowena. "Will you speak to him?"  
  
Rowena nodded. "Yes, I will." She excused herself and left the room. Helga joined the others at the wall.  
  
"Will she know how to find him?" Minerva asked.  
  
"If anyone can find him, it's Rowena Ravenclaw," Helga returned. She peered closely at Flamel, and then said, "Robert?"  
  
Flamel shook his head. "No. My name is Nicolas. Robert was my father. I'm your grandson."  
  
"My grandson?" she repeated. "What year is this?"  
  
"Nineteen ninety-seven," Dumbledore answered.  
  
"Nineteen ninety-seven!" she cried. She took a few breaths, and then said, "Let me guess. Elixer of Life."  
  
Flamel nodded. "My supply ran out about two years ago. I don't think I'll be around much longer."  
  
She smiled and touched him on the cheek. "You look just like your father."  
  
"Thank you, I think."  
  
She laughed, but her amusement quickly faded, and she said, "I hope Rowena can get Godric to work out a compromise with you. They've always been close. If only things had been different."  
  
"What do you mean by that?" inquired Minerva.  
  
"I can't be certain, but I think they were in love," Helga replied.  
  
"She must not have known that they were married," Dumbledore whispered to Flamel.  
  
"That explains why I didn't know," Flamel whispered back.  
  
"What was that?" Helga asked.  
  
"Godric and Rowena were in love," Flamel said. "In fact, they were married."  
  
Helga was taken aback. "Married? But... but that's impossible. She was bethrothed to a man named Lord Gordon Delaney at birth. To marry someone else would bring dishonor and humiliation upon her family. She died about six months prior to their scheduled wedding date, her twenty-first birthday." She paused, and then said, "Well, that would explain why they kept it a secret."  
  
"There's more," Dumbledore said. "They had children; twin girls, to be exact."  
  
"Christine and Julianne," Helga realized.  
  
Everyone nodded.  
  
Helga touched her forehead with her hand and said, "I should be surprised, but somehow, I'm not. I never knew she was pregnant, but I can see how because school was only in session from August to January. We didn't extend the year until much later. She supposedly returned home after the end of the year, and although we received letters from her until a few days before her death, we never saw her."  
  
"That explains a lot," Ron commented, and several heads nodded in agreement.  
  
"Indeed." Helga's green eyes sparkled like emeralds, and she said, "It appears that there is a lot we can learn from each other."  
  
"I agree," said Flamel, "but I think it can wait until tomorrow. It's been a long day, and I don't think we need to make it any longer."  
  
~~~  
  
A/N: Like it? Should I continue? Shippers, here's what you'll definitely see in this story: AD/MM (they're my signature pair - can't write a fic without them!), RW/HG, NL/PP, and GG/RR. I was also thinking about Harry/Ginny... feedback? Also, if you like stories about the Hogwarts Four, check out my other fic featuring the Founders, 'Those Ravenclaw Girls'. The first chapter's stupid (I've been meaning to revise it), but it's good after that, I promise. Okay, I'll post now. Have a good day. 


	6. Say What?

CHAPTER SIX: SAY WHAT?  
  
~~~  
  
Rowena Ravenclaw was only slightly agitated by the fact that she couldn't get into her house common room. What she found most aggrevating about the situation was her own lack of foresight. She should have known the password would no longer be "nectarine" after all this time. Her irritation vanished completely when she realized that Godric Gryffindor wouldn't be able to get into his house, either. Perhaps she could find him over there.  
  
Her guess was nothing short of correct. She found Gryffindor sitting with his back against the wall, next to a portrait of a very large woman in a pink dress. He smiled when he saw her and said, "Did you forget, too?"  
  
"That the passwords change every few days?" She nodded. "Yes."  
  
She held out her hand. He took it, and she helped him to his feet. "Shall we walk?" she asked.  
  
They began wandering absentmindedly through the school, with no destination or purpose. Neither spoke, for both knew what the other was thinking. They were thinking about Salazar Slytherin, about his resurrection and what it would mean to face him again. Although he disagreed with what standards Hogwarts should have, that didn't change the fact that he and Gryffindor were still brothers. The bonds of blood could not be broken so easily.  
  
After about five minutes of silence, Gryffindor vocalized his thoughts. "I can't do it, Rowena," he said. "I won't abandon these people - our descendants - to face their enemy alone, but I won't kill my brother."  
  
"I know you won't," she replied, "but any way you look at it, we don't have much time. This Voldemort seems like someone to be feared. They never would have resurrected us if it was not a last resort." Both of them knew about the resurrection spell and how dangerous it was. No one had said anything, but logic told them that was how they had been brought back to life.  
  
"But what about Salazar?" Gryffindor asked. "Voldemort is obviously a descendant of his. Will that be enough to persuade him to go against us?" He sighed and began rubbing his eyes with his free hand. "I couldn't save him before. How can I now?"  
  
"No one blames you for what happened, Godric," Rowena said. "He could not be stopped."  
  
"Maybe he could have," he said. "But then Kedelor... whatever happened to him, anyway?"  
  
Rowena sighed, and said, "I don't know. I died before his defeat."  
  
Gryffindor stopped walking, and a shocked look crossed his face. "You died? But how?"  
  
She stopped as well. Tears stung her eyes, and though she tried to hold them back, she was unsuccessful. "A week after you did," she said. "I don't know how I survived the childbirth, but somehow, I did. We were all alone, and I knew that if I didn't find help, we would all die. I did the only thing I could - left to find help. I didn't get far from the cottage when I collapsed from weakness, and... and then I died." She wiped at her eyes and said, "You should not have interfered. Your sacrifice was in vain. You could have killed Kedelor then, but you chose to save me, and for nothing!"  
  
He reached for her hands and gripped them tightly. "It was not in vain," he insisted. "I had to make a choice. It was either lose one life, mine, or lose two - yours and our child's. And even though you died so soon after, our child obviously lived because we're here now."  
  
"Children, Godric," she corrected. "They were twin girls."  
  
A pained look crossed his face, and tears of his own formed in the corners of his eyes. "I wish I could have seen them."  
  
"They had your eyes," she said in a choked whisper. "I wanted to save them so badly... they were all I had left of you." She pulled her hands away and took a few steps forward. "But I failed. I failed them. I failed you. I failed everyone."  
  
"Rowena," Gryffindor said, walking over to her and placing a hand on her arm.  
  
She jerked away from him like he was a poisonous reptile. Her eyes were flaming. "Do you have any idea what it's like to see someone you love die right before your eyes?" she said angrily. "Do you have any idea what it's like to give birth to children who will never know their father?" Tears were streaming down her cheeks by this point. "My heart died when you did, and the rest of me caught up a week later. Why did you do it? Tell me, why?"  
  
"Because I loved you, and if it means anything to you, I still do."  
  
"It means everything to me, and that is why I will not give it a chance to destroy us again." Without another word, she turned and walked away.  
  
~~~  
  
After their conversation with Helga Hufflepuff, all that had participated in the resurrection spell went their seperate ways. Severus Snape remained in the dungeons to clean up a little before going to bed. Harry Potter, who was quite exhausted from the spell, went to bed immediately. Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger accompanied their friend to their house, and then spent the rest of the night studying in the common room with some of their fellow Gryffindors. Nicolas Flamel went home. Helga went to the library to "catch up with the twentieth century", as she put it. Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall went to the staff room to discuss the day's events before calling it a night.  
  
Madam Pomfrey had given Harry, Minerva, and Flamel some wound-cleaning solution and insisted they use it on their cuts. Minerva had it with her and was attempting to treat her injuries, but her hands were shaking, and she was unsuccessful. Her arm was throbbing, and the slightest touch was excurciating.  
  
"Let me help you with that," Dumbledore said, taking the wound-cleaning solution from her. He asked her to sit down in a chair in front of the fireplace, and then knelt down next to her. At his request, she held out her arm. "How do you feel?" the headmaster asked, dipping a cloth into the solution.  
  
"Tired," she answered. "Very tired."  
  
"Probably because of the spell," he guessed. He warned her that the cleaning solution might sting, and then pressed the cloth to her skin. She flinched, but did not move away.  
  
"What do you think will happen with the Gryffindor/Slytherin situation?" Minerva asked through clenched teeth.  
  
"I don't know," Dumbledore answered. "It's hard to say. I can see why Gryffindor would be reluctant to help. I could not kill my own brother."  
  
She shook her head. "Neither could I."  
  
"You have a brother?" he asked, confused.  
  
"Two," she replied, "and a sister - well, had, anyway. Elias was killed in a Quidditch accident forty years ago, and Toby and Estella were murdered by Grindelwald."  
  
Dumbledore cringed at the mention of Grindelwald, and she noticed that and apologized. "Don't worry about it," he said. "It's not the first time someone's mentioned him around me, and I'm sure it won't be the last." Grindelwald was one of the two people who had ever lived that Dumbledore truly hated, and just thinking about his old nemesis was enough to send him into an irritable mood.   
  
"Well, I should know better. I'm sorry." Minerva despised him too, of course, but Dumbledore's contempt for the evil wizard ran deeper than anyone could imagine.  
  
She was such a perfectionist. That trait annoyed him to no end. "You don't have to do that, you know," he said, and dipped the cloth into the solution again.  
  
"Do what?" she asked, wincing slightly when the stinging liquid touched her open wounds.  
  
"Apologize for every little mistake you make," he replied. "No one is perfect, Minerva, even though there are those among us who come quite close."  
  
Had she not been so exhausted, she might have caught the deeper inner hidden meaning behind his statement. "What do you mean by that?" she asked.  
  
"Think about it in the morning," he replied.  
  
"I'm thinking, and I still don't understand."  
  
Dumbledore smiled for the first time in several hours. "I said in the morning, Minerva."  
  
"I won't be able to sleep if I'm dwelling on a thought like that."  
  
"I don't think you'll have trouble sleeping tonight," he returned, and dabbed the cloth at the cuts that made up her first name. Some of the cuts were deep, and he feared that he might not be able to use her arm for several days. He wondered if Harry's and Flamel's cuts were as bad as hers. Probably not, because both of them were right-handed and their names were nowhere near as long as hers.  
  
It took him about five minutes to use up all of the wound-cleaning solution, and when he was done, he was somewhat miffed to see that the cuts didn't look much better other than the fact that they had stopped bleeding. She was half-asleep by the time he was done. "That should help," he said, setting the cloth down. He looked at her, and saw that her eyes were closed and she was nearly motionless. "Minerva? Are you still with me?"  
  
She opened her eyes and said, "Yes, Albus. I'm sorry. I'm just so tired..."  
  
"That was a brave thing you did, all three of you," he said. "I think I see why the Sorting Hat eventually decided on putting you in Gryffindor."  
  
"That's true, but maybe it would have been more appropriate for me to be in Ravenclaw."  
  
"I don't think so. Ravenclaw's blood may flow in your veins, but so does Gryffindor's. I guess the hat just saw more of Gryffindor in you than Ravenclaw, although I must say that it definitely was not on the outside."  
  
"What do you mean by that?"  
  
"The first thought that entered my mind when I saw Ravenclaw was, 'She looks like Minerva'."  
  
Minerva chuckled softly. "Except that she's far more beautiful than I ever was."  
  
"I wouldn't say that." He planted a platonic kiss on her temple and then rose to his feet. "Come. It's past your bedtime."  
  
"It's six o'clock, Albus."  
  
He glanced at the clock on the wall. "No, it's five fifty-one, Minerva," he corrected. "I don't think you'll be conscious by the time six o'clock rolls around. Now that I think about it, I don't think you'll be conscious when it's five fifty-three."  
  
She was about to say, "Yes, I will," but a huge yawn nearly split her head in half before she had the chance.  
  
~~~  
  
By the time morning came around, everyone was feeling much better. The scars on Harry's and Minerva's arms, although they would never fully go away, looked a little bit lighter, and Harry was able to use his arm without too much pain. Dumbledore thought it would be a good idea to give their resurrected friends a tour of the school; after all, even though they had laid every stone, things had moved around considerably since the thirteenth century. Minerva, Harry, Ron, and Hermione insisted on helping. All of them noticed that Godric Gryffindor and Rowena Ravenclaw weren't speaking to each other, but no one commented.  
  
They decided to make the first stop Dumbledore's office. The password "chocolate frog" made the gargoyle move aside, and the party began climbing the stairs. Harry and Minerva were still feeling slightly fatigued, and as a result, the going was slower than it would have been under other circumstances.  
  
When they reached Dumbledore's office, Gryffindor's eyes immediately fell upon a certain bird with red and gold feathers, and he let out a cry of surprise. "Fawkes?"  
  
Fawkes turned his head in their direction and chirped. Gryffindor extended his right arm, and Fawkes spread his wings and flew over to them. He landed on Gryffindor's arm and rubbed his head against his shoulder. Gryffindor chuckled and then let out a series of chirps and clicks. Fawkes made some chirping and clicking sounds as well, and Gryffindor laughed and nodded.  
  
Dumbledore, Minerva, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were practically blown away by what they saw. "You speak phoenix?" Ron said in amazement.  
  
"The language is Acrosian," Gryffindor corrected, "and yes, I do speak it. All four of us were gifted with the ability to speak a rare language."  
  
"Godric speaks Acrosian; Salazar, Parseltongue; Helga, Meclian; and I, Teyamash," Rowena said.  
  
"Meclian and Teyamash?" Hermione repeated. "What languages are those?"  
  
"Meclian is the language of fairies, and Teyamash is spoken by Nundus," Helga said.  
  
"Nundus?" Harry repeated, and grimaced. "You can actually get close enough to a Nundu to speak to it without being killed?" He paused, and then said, "Wow, you ARE powerful."  
  
"It's not easy," Rowena said. "Nundus are such vicious, bloodthirsty creatures... it's impossible to reason with them. Anyway, they're so rare that there's really no point to being able to speak the language."  
  
"Said the only person in history who has single-handedly defeated a Nundu," Gryffindor commented, and then quickly added, "Unless it's happened since our time, of course."  
  
Minerva shook her head. "No, it hasn't."  
  
Rowena began to look uncomfortable. Her breathing quickened, her eyes darted around the room, and she started wringing her hands. "It was only because I distracted it long enough to make it stay in one place while the cave fell in," she said.  
  
"But you also made the cave fall in," Gryffindor said.  
  
Rowena closed her eyes and shook her head, as if trying to force an image out of her mind. "No. No more. I can't take another word of this!"  
  
Gryffindor reached for her right hand with his left, and then whispered, "I'm sorry for all the pain that I caused you, but not for the decision I made."  
  
"Don't touch me," she said, and pulled her hand away. She refused to look at him after that.  
  
The others sensed the need for a change of subject, and Helga initiated the new conversation. "How did you come into the possession of Fawkes, Professor Dumbledore?"  
  
"I didn't," Dumbledore answered. "He came to me. I don't know why."  
  
Fawkes chirped. "Because you would not have survived otherwise, and he liked you so much that he decided to make you his new owner," Gryffindor translated, although he had no idea what the phoenix was talking about.  
  
Dumbledore, however, did. He remembered perfectly well when he first saw Fawkes, the lengendary guardian of the school: he had been battling Grindelwald in a London subway station. Grindelwald was dead and Dumbledore badly injured. He probably would have died had it not been for the majestic bird that seemed to appear out of nowhere and mended his wounds with its tears. Up until then, he wasn't sure if Fawkes even existed. There was a legend at Hogwarts that Gryffindor had a phoenix whom he asked to watch over the school for all time and protect it from danger, but until Dumbledore and Fawkes returned after defeating Grindelwald, it was thought to be just a fairy tale.  
  
Harry, Ron, and Hermione couldn't help chuckling a little bit at the thought of Fawkes deciding on making Dumbledore his owner. Usually, the owner chose the pet, not the other way around.  
  
~~~  
  
The party left Dumbledore's office a few minutes later. As they exited the staircase, they saw something coming toward them: a house-elf. As the elf came closer, Dumbledore recognized her: Buckle, who belonged to the Flamels. She was crying and looked terribly upset. "Buckle?" Dumbledore said, just to make sure it wasn't a case of mistaken identity.  
  
"Master Dumbledore!" the elf cried, and threw herself at Dumbledore's feet. "Buckle is sorry, but she had to come to Hogwarts. It is what Master and Mistress wanted."  
  
A feeling of dread rose from the pit of his stomach. "Has something happened to Nicolas and Perenelle?"  
  
"They're dead!" Buckle sobbed. "Buckle found them in their bed this morning. She thought they were asleep, but when she checked them, they were dead! Master and Mistress Flamel are dead!"  
  
~~~  
  
A/N: Gryffindor died a horrible death under terrible circumstances. Rowena's defeat of the Nundu is related to this event. There's also a reason why Rowena is being such a b****. More details surrounding his demise and her attitude will be revealed in upcoming chapters. 


	7. Issues

A/N: Sorry no updates in a while; I was on a whirlwind tour of the southwestern United States (California, Nevada, and Arizona) for the last ten days. Lots of driving. Yech. However, in between memorizing spiel from 'Hamlet' ("To be or not to be...") and trying to solve my Rubik's Cube as fast as possible (Under two minutes! Yeah!), I wrote five and a half chapters of this story and one chapter for another. Go me. But enough about that. Gryffindor's death is pretty much explained in full here, and Voldemort and Slytherin make an appearance. I bet you thought I'd forgotten about them. ^_^ Okay, I'm done. You may read now.  
  
~~~  
  
CHAPTER SEVEN: ISSUES  
  
~~~  
  
Albus Dumbledore couldn't believe his ears. Dead? Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel were dead? So it had finally happened... he knew they would die eventually, and in a way he was surprised that they had lasted this long, but why did it have to happen now, when they needed Flamel more than ever? Dumbledore felt numb. Flamel was one of his oldest and dearest friends. Losing him was like losing a brother.  
  
He wanted to react to the news somehow, but all he could do was stand there with a blank look on his face. None of the others, save for the elf, knew Flamel intimately enough to be as hurt by his death as Dumbledore was, but regardless, they were all in a state of shock as well, though nowhere near as intensely as the headmaster. Buckle continued to weep silently. The Flamels had always treated her well, and the loss of her benevolent owners was devastating.  
  
Dumbledore felt someone's hand on his shoulder, and when he saw that it belonged to Minerva, he covered it with his and gripped it tightly. He took a deep breath, and then said, "Buckle?"  
  
The elf sniffed and wiped her eyes. "Yes, Master Dumbledore?"  
  
"You are welcome to stay here at Hogwarts if you like."  
  
Buckle began crying again. "Master Dumbledore is so kind to Buckle! Thank you!"  
  
Dumbledore sighed and let his hand fall back down to waist level. He didn't let go of Minerva's hand, though; nor did she let go of him. "Nicolas was very old," he said. "The spell must have pushed him over the edge. I'm sure he knew it would. Let this be a lesson to all of us. Nicolas Flamel gave his life so that we could have the strength to counter our enemy. We must not fail him."  
  
"I will not kill my brother," said Gryffindor.  
  
"He does not have to die to be stopped," Minerva said.  
  
"That's right," Dumbledore agreed. "If we can capture him and hold him in our custody, that may suffice."  
  
"It won't be easy," said Helga.  
  
"Of course it won't," Rowena said. "It will be impossible. Salazar is too powerful. His conviction to his beliefs is stronger than you know, Professors. If this Voldemort is half as powerful as you say he is, and he convinces Salazar to help him, the world is doomed."  
  
"What happened to optimisim?" asked Harry. "Let's try to have a little faith here, people."  
  
"She's right," said Gryffindor.  
  
Harry looked at Gryffindor. "What, you too?"  
  
"But so is Professor Dumbledore," Gryffindor continued. "They will come no matter what we do. If we face them, then there is the chance that we will succeed. If we run, then we have already lost." He glanced at Rowena briefly before resuming his speech. "If we die, we can die with honor, knowing that we at least tried to save our world and the ones we love."  
  
"Excuse me," Rowena said quietly, and began walking away.  
  
Helga started to follow her, but Gryffindor placed his hand on her arm to stop her before she could get far. "Let her go," he said. "She's not ready yet. She needs more time."  
  
"We don't have time," Hermione pointed out, and Harry and Ron nodded in agreement.  
  
"She's right, Godric," Helga said. "We need every second we have."  
  
"Why is she acting like this, anyway?" asked Ron.  
  
Gryffindor sighed, and his eyes gazed mindlessly at the floor. "It's my fault," he said. "We spoke last night, and she told me what happened, how she died a week after I did... she said I should not have interfered."  
  
"Interfered with what?" asked Harry.  
  
Gryffindor was too busy struggling with inner conflicts to hear Harry's question. "What was I supposed to do?" he asked. "Let her die? Let our children die?" He sighed again, then said, "I wish I could have known what they were like."  
  
Following his statement, Helga, in a voice so soft it was barely audible, said, "I can tell you that."  
  
Gryffindor stared at her, and she said, slightly louder, "The person that found the girls after Rowena's death was Daniel. We raised them. I had no idea they were your children until last night, or that you and Rowena were even married, for that matter."  
  
"We would have told you if we could," Gryffindor said.  
  
Helga nodded. "Yes, I know, and I understand. Out of curiosity, though, how long were you two married before you died?"  
  
"Three years."  
  
Ron whistled softly. "Wow. If I ever need a secret kept, can I tell it to you?"  
  
That made everyone smile in spite of the situation. "I'm sure your friends would be more than happy to keep your secret, Ron," Gryffindor said.  
  
"But Harry and Hermione already know everything there is to know about me, so there's really no point," said Ron. "Besides, when you have five older brothers, you don't have any secrets. I'm just saying, you know, if."  
  
"I'll speak to Rowena," Minerva offered. "Maybe I can talk some sense into her."  
  
"Can she do it?" Gryffindor asked hopefully, looking at Dumbledore.  
  
Dumbledore watched Minerva go, and then said, "Well, my friend, she can certainly try."  
  
~~~  
  
It didn't take Minerva long to catch up to Rowena. The founder of Ravenclaw house hadn't gone far, and now stood next to a large stained-glass window about three hallways down. As she approached, Rowena glanced over her shoulder and said, "Hello, Professor McGonagall."  
  
"You can call me Minerva," the other woman said.  
  
"Hello, Minerva," said Rowena.  
  
"That's better," Minerva said. "Now, with all due respect, Lady Ravenclaw, what the hell is your problem?"  
  
Minerva almost couldn't believe she just said those words, but it was too late to take them back now. Rowena appeared slightly surprised as well, but answered the question. "I won't pretend that I don't know what you're talking about," she said, "but I'm afraid my reasons will not make sense to you."  
  
"Try me," Minerva said dryly.  
  
Rowena sighed and gazed at the window. "It's not as simple as it may seem," she said. "I was sixteen when the four of us founded Hogwarts. There were only four people in the world that didn't think I was a stupid child that was too young to be considered one of the most powerful figures in the magical community: Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin, Helga Hufflepuff, and Daniel Flamel. They meant everything to me. They were the only ones that took me seriously. I loved them all dearly."  
  
"But one more than the others," Minerva interjected.  
  
Rowena nodded. "Yes, one more than the others. It was crazy for me to fall in love with him. He was so much older than me, and besides, I was bethrothed to a man named Gordon Delaney at birth. I didn't think there was any way we could be together until Godric came to me one night with some shocking news: he'd been to see Delaney, and Delaney was in love with another as well and wished to marry her. It didn't take the four of us long to think of a solution. It would bring shame upon our families if Delaney and I maried others, so we agreed that I would marry Godric and Delaney would marry Elaine in secret, and when the time came, Delaney and I would stage a wedding and stay with our true loves away from the eyes of the world."  
  
Minerva thought about asking why Rowena and Delaney didn't just come out and say that they didn't want to marry each other, but then remembered that society was much different back then, and kept silent.  
  
Rowena continued. "About a year after Hogwarts was founded, Helga and Daniel were married. That same night, the man that married them performed the ceremony for Delaney and Elaine and Godric and myself. He was the only other that knew of our plans."  
  
"And who was that man?" Minerva asked.  
  
Rowena's answer was so soft that Minerva could barely hear it. "Salazar Slytherin."  
  
"Well, that explains a lot, but not why you're so angry with Godric."  
  
"Do you know how he died?"  
  
"Yes. Kedelor killed him."  
  
"Kedelor wasn't trying to kill Godric. He was trying to kill me."  
  
Minerva couldn't believe her ears. "What?"  
  
Rowena nodded. "I defeated Kedelor's Nundu, and he was so angry that he said he was going to kill me himself. He cast the Killing Curse, and right as the words 'Avada Kedavra' were leaving his lips, Godric jumped in front of me. I don't know why Kedelor didn't kill me then. I don't even remember him leaving. The only thing I could think about was Godric. He was dead, and if it weren't for me, he would have still been alive."  
  
"You're right; it doesn't make sense to me," a very confused Minerva said. "Your husband died for you, and you thank him by rejecting him?"  
  
"I am doing him a favor," Rowena replied. "Yes, we loved each other. We loved each other so much that in the end, it destroyed both of us. He gave his life to save mine. I could not live without him, but believe me, I tried. Love only leads to destruction."  
  
"How can you say that?" Minerva asked. "He loved you more than anything in the world! He still does! Love like that is rare. You are lucky enough to have it, and yet you discard it like-"  
  
"Like Godric discarded his life?" Rowena interrupted.  
  
By now, Minerva was nearly shouting. "Would you have done the same for him?"  
  
Tears swelled up in Rowena's eyes, and in a weary, choked voice, she gave her answer. "Yes."  
  
"Then you are a hypocrite for rejecting him for something you would have done yourself."  
  
"That may be so, but his death was in vain. I died a week later."  
  
"But your children lived."  
  
"No thanks to me."  
  
"Listen to me, Rowena," Minerva said. "Stop hating yourself for what happened. That won't change anything. You've been given a second chance. Take it. If you love him as much as I know you do, take it. I would."  
  
A small smile of irony played across Rowena's lips. "Now who's the hypocrite?"  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about," Minerva said, even though she did.  
  
Rowena almost laughed. "Please. I can tell. You look at Albus Dumbledore the same way I look at Godric Gryffindor."  
  
Minerva opened her mouth to protest, but Rowena cut her off. "Let me make a deal with you," she said. "You want me to happy. I want you to be happy. I will apologize to Godric if and when you tell Professor Dumbledore how you feel about him." She smiled, and then added, "Don't worry; he loves you, too."  
  
"If you say so, but if I may ask, how did you know?"  
  
Her smile grew wider. "You're my descendant, remember?"  
  
~~~  
  
While Minerva and Rowena were having their heart-to-heart, their counterparts, Albus Dumbledore and Godric Gryffindor, were also deep in discussion. Helga and the three students from Gryffindor house had gone to breakfast to allow Dumbledore and Gryffindor to talk in private. The two of them went back up to Dumbledore's office, and there, Gryffindor told his story.  
  
What Gryffindor said to Dumbledore wasn't much different from what Rowena told Minerva. He told him how no one believed her competence because she was so young, how he never believed she would return his love for her because of the difference in their ages, how he and Delaney came up with a way for everyone to be happy, how Slytherin was in on the plan, and how he died to save her. Questions arose in Dumbledore's mind as Gryffindor spoke, but he waited until the story was finished to ask them.  
  
"Rowena is angry with me for sacrificing myself for her," Gryffindor said. "I believed it was for the best. I had no idea my death would destroy her like it did, but it wasn't like I had a choice."  
  
"She could not live without you," Dumbledore said. "Not even your children could keep her alive."  
  
"Was this meant to happen?" Gryffindor asked. "Were our children meant to live so that Rowena and I could be reunited, so Helga could finally know the truth, and so Salazar could be saved?"  
  
Dumbledore hadn't even thought of that. "I don't believe in fate to a great extent, but since you're all here, why not?"  
  
Gryffindor smiled, then sighed and said, "I hope Rowena will forgive me for abandoning her, but I was not going to let her and our children die."  
  
"I'm sure Minerva will get her to come around. She's descended from the two of you, you know, and I can see a lot of Rowena in her."  
  
Gryffindor chuckled softly and said, "Yes, so can I."  
  
Dumbledore decided to ask one of the questions that had come to mind when Gryffindor was telling his story. "You mentioned an age difference between you and Rowena. How old was she when you two were married?"  
  
"Seventeen."  
  
"Indeed. And how old were you?"  
  
"Thirty-nine."  
  
"Twenty-two years," Dumbledore said, doing the math in his head. Then he said, mostly to himself, "That's not as much as..."  
  
Gryffindor caught on at once. "You're in love with Minerva McGonagall, aren't you? How much younger is she than you?"  
  
"Eighty-one years, seven months, and twenty-six days, and what makes you think I'm in love with her?"  
  
"The way you two look at each other, for starters," Gryffindor answered. "Secondly, you seem more at ease around her, and I also noticed that when the elf told us about the Flamels, she put her hand on your shoulder, and you two didn't let go of each other until she left to follow Rowena." He glanced at Fawkes, then added, "And Fawkes told me."  
  
Dumbledore cast the phoenix a sideways look and arched one of his bushy white eyebrows. "See if I ever confide in you again, Fawkes."  
  
Fawkes chirped, and Gryffindor laughed.  
  
Dumbledore sighed and looked at Gryffindor. "Dare I ask?"  
  
"'It was for your own good'," Gryffindor translated, "and I must say that I agree with him. Tell Minerva how you feel. I'm certain she feels the same way about you, and then you can both be happy."  
  
"Really?"  
  
He nodded. "Really."  
  
~~~  
  
Ever since the resurrection, Voldemort had been bringing Slytherin up to speed on the major things that had happened since his death centuries ago. The going was slow, as Slytherin asked many questions. Voldemort hadn't even realized how much he knew about history until this conversation with his ancestor. It took days of "history lessons" before Slytherin was satisfied, but he finally had enough, and they could move on to other things. Voldemort was most interested in figuring out a way to tkae Hogwarts. That was what they were doing right now in an old cabin not far from where Slytherin had been resurrected: making plans.  
  
"This is the most recent map I have of Hogwarts," Voldemort said, and unrolled a scroll on the table before them, "courtesy of Mr. Lucius Malfoy. It's a little over five years old. There's a secret passage on this side, right-"  
  
"I prefer a direct approach," Slytherin interrupted, gazing at the map. "Is the Basilisk still in the Chamber of Secrets?"  
  
Voldemort shook his head. "No. The Basilisk is dead."  
  
Slytherin stiffened. "What?"  
  
"It was five years ago," Voldemort said. "I tried to kill the Muggle-borns, and succeeded in Petrifying several, but I was stopped before I could fulfill my destiny, and the Basilisk was killed."  
  
Slytherin cringed at the word "Muggle-born", and Voldemort noticed this. "Out of curiosity," he said, "have you just always hated Muggles, or was there a specific reason for it?"  
  
Slytherin sighed and began tracing random lines on the map with his finger. "Muggles were not meant to have magical ability," he said. "In their hands, it can never be used properly. In fact, it is downright dangerous, and a threat to the true wizards. It is our duty to protect our world by cleansing it of the Muggles. They have their world to corrupt and destroy. They do not need ours as well."  
  
"Indeed." Voldemort didn't share Slytherin's philosophical views, but for the time being, he would play along. Once Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter were out of the way, he would have no more use for Slytherin, and he could be eliminated. Voldemort shared power with no one, not even Salazar Slytherin.  
  
"But there is also a 'specific reason'," Slytherin said.  
  
"There is?" Voldemort asked.  
  
"Yes." Slytherin's eyes were narrowed, and his voice was filled with contempt. It was the most evil Voldemort had seen him look so far. "It was a Muggle-born wizard that murdered my brother." 


	8. Confessions

A/N: Thanks for reading, everyone. My other stuff hasn't been updated in a while because of a severe case of writer's block. I wrote a whole bunch of this story before writer's block set in, so updates should be pretty consistent for a while. Caution: there is fluff in this chapter. You have been warned.  
Quick note to Eswen: As of right now, I have no plans to make Lucius show up, but Draco will be playing a pretty big role. Is that satisfactory? ^_^  
Oh, and I bet NONE of you have ever heard Minerva say sadistic bitch before! ^_^ (Well, read, but you know what I mean)  
~~~  
  
CHAPTER EIGHT: CONFESSIONS  
  
~~~  
  
"Do you have any fives?"  
  
"Go fish."  
  
Neville Longbottom reached out and picked up the top card on the deck sitting in the middle of the triangle formed by himself and two other individuals. Hogwarts's Head Boy looked at Godric Gryffindor and said, "Okay, now it's your turn."  
  
"All right." Gryffindor cleared his throat and looked at Parvati Patil. "Do you have any fives?"  
  
Parvati almost laughed. "No, I don't," she said. "I just told Neville that I didn't. One of the ideas of the game is to listen to what moves your opponents make and see if you have any of those cards. It's strategy."  
  
Gryffindor cringed. "Oh, that's right." He looked at Neville and sighed. "It's no use, Neville. I'll never get the hang of this game."  
  
"Yes, you will," Neville said. "Try again."  
  
"Very well. Parvati, do you have any nines?"  
  
"Go fish," Parvati answered.  
  
Classes had been over for about an hour. In their house's common room, Neville and Parvati were trying to teach Gryffindor how to play Go Fish, and they were not having any luck. Even though he was trying, Gryffindor could not get things to work for himself.  
  
Suddenly, the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open, and into the common room came Minerva McGonagall. "Hi, Professor McGonagall," Parvati said upon seeing the school's deputy headmistress.  
  
"Hello Miss Patil, Mr. Longbottom," Minerva said. "Have you seen - oh, there you are."  
  
"Me?" Gryffindor asked, pointing to himself.  
  
She nodded. "Yes, you. Someone wants a word with you; several, in fact."  
  
A hopeful look crossed his face. "Rowena?"  
  
She smiled.  
  
Gryffindor looked at Neville and Parvati. "Will you excuse me, please? I need to save my marriage."  
  
"Go ahead," Neville said with a grin.  
  
As Minerva and Gryffindor left, Parvati began gathering up the cards. She got a surprised look on her face when she saw Gryffindor's cards. "Uh, Neville?" she said. "Could you please explain to Lord Gryffindor that there are only four nines in the deck?"  
  
"What, did he have all of them?" he asked.  
  
Parvati nodded.  
  
A worried look crossed his face. "And to think, we were sorted into this guy's house!"  
  
She laughed. "That's almost scary."  
  
~~~  
  
Outside the entrance to the Gryffindor common room stood Albus Dumbledore and Rowena Ravenclaw, waiting for Minerva and Gryffindor to come out. Soon enough, the portrait swung open, and the two of them stepped out into the hall. Gryffindor dashed over to Rowena and tried to say five things at once. "I couldn't - I had to - I'm sorry - can you - I didn't mean-"  
  
She cut him off by pressing her finger to his lips. "It's all right," she said. "It doesn't matter whether or not we think what happened was right or wrong because there's nothing we can do about it. What we can do, though, is embrace this second chance and try again. I love you, Godric Gryffindor, and I will never try to convince myself otherwise again."  
  
There was no need for them to continue exchanging words. All that needed to be said had, so they put their lips to other uses. As they kissed each other, Dumbledore looked at Minerva and said, "What did you say to her?"  
  
Minerva smiled and glanced at the floor before lifting her gaze to him. "I called her a hypocrite and was thinking sadistic bitch, but I didn't say that. I think she was thinking the same thing about me."  
  
"Hypocrite or sadistic bitch?"  
  
"Well, she called me a hypocrite, too, so sadistic bitch, I suppose." Minerva remembered her deal with Rowena, and knew there would be no backing out of it now, so she decided that she might as well get it over with. "Albus, there's something I have to tell you."  
  
"How convenient," Dumbledore said. "There's something I have to tell you, too."  
  
"You go first."  
  
"You may go first if you like."  
  
She shook her head. "No, that's quite all right. I think you should go first."  
  
"All right, here's what we'll do," Dumbledore said. "On the count of three, we'll both say whatever it is we have to say at the same time. Does that sound good?"  
  
Minerva nodded. "Sounds great."  
  
"All right. One... two... three."  
  
Right after he said "three", their two voices spoke three words in unison: "I love you."  
  
Both of them were so surprised that they almost couldn't speak. "What did you say?" Dumbledore choked.  
  
"I love you," she answered. "What did you say?"  
  
"I love you," he said.  
  
Gryffindor pulled away from Rowena long enough to say, "Then what are you waiting for?"  
  
~~~  
  
A few seconds later, the portrait swung open again, but Neville and Parvati didn't step into the hall when they saw the sight before them: Godric Gryffindor and Rowena Ravenclaw kissing passionately, and next to them, Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall engaged in the same activity. For a few moments, they were too surprised to even breathe. After all, up until yesterday, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw had been dead for centuries, and Dumbledore and Minerva were, well, Dumbledore and Minerva. If they caught a student doing what they were right now, the rebuke would be quite harsh.  
  
Parvati looked at Neville. "Back to the common room?"  
  
Neville nodded. "Yeah."  
  
~~~  
  
Voldemort suddenly became very, very interested in what Salazar Slytherin had to say. "You have a brother?" he said, trying not to sound as surprised as he felt.  
  
Slytherin nodded. "Yes - well, half brother, but still my brother. He was killed by a Muggle-born wizard named Kedelor. A month later, I succeeded in tracking down Kedelor, and I killed him. Then I went to Hogwarts and built the Chamber of Secrets. Daniel and Helga didn't know about the Chamber, and they tried to convince me to stay, but I could not."  
  
Voldemort figured Helga had to be Helga Hufflepuff, but he had never heard of anyone named Daniel before. "Who's Daniel?" he asked. "And where were Gryffindor and Ravenclaw during all this?"  
  
"Daniel Flamel was Helga's husband," Slytherin answered. "Rowena died a week after my brother did, and Godric..." He couldn't continue.  
  
"What about him?"  
  
Slytherin took a deep breath to steady himself, and then said, "Godric Gryffindor is my brother."  
  
Voldemort was very glad that he hadn't been eating anything when Slytherin spoke those words because he certainly would have started choking, and he doubted Slytherin knew the Heimlich maneuver. "Gryffindor?" he repeated. "The mudblood-lover Gryffindor is your brother?"  
  
Slytherin picked up his staff and held it so the silver snake head at the end was under Voldemort's chin. "Never," he hissed, "refer to Godric Gryffindor that way again."  
  
He didn't want to get on Slytherin's bad side, so he agreed. Slytherin may be a bleeding heart, but he had more power in his little finger than Voldemort could ever have.  
  
Slytherin put his staff down and said, "Yes, Gryffindor is my brother. My mother married his father six years after my father died. I was ten when Godric was born. I loved my brother very much, and I would have done anything for him."  
  
"So you left the school?" Voldemort asked.  
  
"I had my reasons. Godric and I disagreed on who should be allowed to attend Hogwarts, but the reason I did not return the next year was because he was killed. By the time I found Rowena, she was dead, too. Helga and Daniel wanted me to stay, but in their hearts, I think they knew, as I did, that the deaths of my brother and sister-in-law had driven me mad."  
  
Now Voldemort was confused. "Sister-in-law? Gryffindor was married?"  
  
"Yes, to Rowena. I married them. It was a union of utmost secrecy, but since they're both dead now, I don't think there's any point to keeping it secret."  
  
"No, I suppose not."  
  
"I spent the rest of my life tracking down Kedelor's followers and killing them to avenge my brother," Slytherin continued. "Daniel and Helga assumed full control of the school. They did a good job, but they continued to uphold the belief that anyone who showed magical ability should be allowed to attend Hogwarts regardless of the society to which they were born."  
  
"One more thing," Voldemort said. "If this Daniel Flamel was so involved with Hogwarts, then why did he not participate in its founding?"  
  
"There are several reasons," Slytherin said. "The idea to start a school was Helga's. The five of us - Godric, Helga, Rowena, Daniel, and myself - were fairly well acquainted by this time, and we all had a good idea of each others' abilities. It was a mutual agreement that the four most powerful ones among us would be the ones to start the school. Daniel was by no means incompetant as a wizard, but his true strength lied elsewhere - alchemy. At the time of the founding, he was hard at work on his greatest discovery yet."  
  
"The Philosopher's Stone," Voldemort realized, and Slytherin nodded. "So the philosopher was Daniel Flamel?"  
  
Slytherin nodded again.  
  
"Do you, by any chance, know how to make the Philosopher's Stone?" It was worth a shot.  
  
"I'm sorry," Slytherin said with a shake of his head. "Daniel passed the knowledge on to only one person: his son Robert. We all knew terrible things could happen if the Stone fell into the wrong hands, so it was agreed upon that only the oldest son in every generation of Flamel's line would know how to make it." He paused, then asked, "Are the Flamels still a prominet wizarding family?"  
  
"The only Flamel I know of is Nicolas, and he is over six hundred seventy years old. It is my understanding that he stopped making the Stone several years ago, though, so he and his wife must surely be dead by now."  
  
Slytherin did some quick subtraction in his head. "Nicolas must have been Robert's son," he concluded. "Did he have any children?"  
  
"To the best of my knowledge, no."  
  
Slytherin sighed. It was depressing to know that a family he had once been so intimate with had died out, and such a powerful family at that. He glanced around the room, then let his eyes come to rest on the map on the table. "What exactly is it you want to do at Hogwarts?"  
  
"There are two individuals who must be eliminated at once," Voldemort said. "They are the strongest of the Muggle supporters. Once they are gone, the school's defenses will be significantly lowered; enough for us to assume control."  
  
"Who are those two?"  
  
"Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter."  
  
"Albus Dumbledore?" Slytherin repeated. "As in Emerius Dumbledore?"  
  
"Who was Emerius Dumbledore?" Voldemort asked. He'd never heard that name before.  
  
"My mentor," Slytherin said wistfully. So the Dumbledores were Muggle supporters now? What was the world coming to? "Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter... very well. We need a way to get inside the school and know everything that is going on."  
  
"Reconnaissance, in other words?"  
  
"Yes. Are you an Animagus?"  
  
Voldemort frowned at the mention of one of the few abilities he had never been able to master. "No," he said. "Are you?"  
  
"Yes, but my Animagus form is far too... conspicuous for our purposes."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Chimaera."  
  
Voldemort agreed with him. If a Chimaera showed up at Hogwarts, they would definitely know something was up, and chaos would ensue.  
  
"Is there someone you can trust at Hogwarts?" Slytherin asked. "Someone who shares our conviction that allowing Muggles to possess magical ability will destroy this world as it did mine?"  
  
Voldemort spent the next few moments in deep thought. Severus Snape, who had once been one of his finest Death Eaters, betrayed him and joined Dumbledore, so he was definitely out. Peter Pettigrew and Bartemius Crouch Jr. were mindless zombies rotting away in Azkaban, as were most of his other Death Eaters. Lucius Malfoy was a possibility, but he had relied on Malfoy once before, five years ago, and that incident had not gone anywhere near as well as he'd hoped. He was beginning to question Malfoy's competence. Good help was so hard to find...  
  
Suddenly, Voldemort had an idea. Lucius Malfoy wouldn't be able to get anywhere near Hogwarts without arousing suspicion, but he had a son... a son who happened to be a seventh-year Slytherin. Maybe, just maybe...  
  
"Can you think of anyone?" Slytherin asked.  
  
"Yes," Voldemort said. "A Hogwarts student, one of your house, a member of one of the oldest and most powerful wizarding families in the world."  
  
"Excellent," Slytherin said. "The name?"  
  
"Draco Malfoy." 


	9. Quidditch

CHAPTER NINE: QUIDDITCH  
  
~~~  
  
Several days later, Draco Malfoy, the captain and Seeker of the Slytherin Quidditch team, watched from his lofty perch on his Nimbus 2001 broomstick as Madam Hooch stepped out onto the field. He made eye contact with his three Chasers and two Beaters for a few seconds each, and they all nodded at him. This game against Ravenclaw was vital. If they won, it would put them in second place, behind Gryffindor. They had to win, and not just because of the Quidditch Cup. The reputation of Slytherin house was at stake.  
  
Albus Dumbledore had insisted that everything at Hogwarts remain functioning the same way it had since before Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Helga Hufflepuff had been resurrected. He saw no reason to hide in the school, and for once, Draco agreed with him. If Salazar Slytherin really had been resurrected, Draco wanted him to see that his house was and would always be the greatest of them all.  
  
After looking at his teammates, Draco's gaze drifted to the Ravenclaw girl hovering on a broomstick across from him. It was their Seeker, Padma Patil. Cho Chang, who graduated last year, was the best Seeker Ravenclaw had in a long time, but Padma was rather good herself. She was small, light, and quick, which was always an advantage for Seekers. Draco had experience and a better broomstick on his side, but he had learned not to underestimate Padma. Earlier that year, she had almost beaten Harry Potter to the Golden Snitch, and Harry was the best Seeker to attend Hogwarts since Charlie Weasley, who could have gone professional.  
  
Madam Hooch opened the box that contained the balls, releasing the Bludgers and the Golden Snitch. Padma watched the balls go up, then looked at Draco. For a few moments, the Seekers stared each other down, but their gazes broke at the sound of Madam Hooch's whistle, signalling the start of the game.  
  
Slytherin took possession of the Quaffle immediately, and their Chaser team, led by a fifth-year named Cody Van Buren, sped toward the hoops at the end of the pitch. Cody passed the Quaffle to another Chaser, a sixth-year named Abby Gordon, one of the two girls on the team. Abby ducked a Bludger, a Ravenclaw Chaser, and Gregory Goyle, one of the two Slytherin Beaters, as she sped toward the goal. Goyle and the other Beater, Vincent Crabbe, were selected to be on the team for their sheer size and brute strength more than their skill, but when they managed to steer their broomsticks straight and hit the Bludgers in the right direction, they were not bad at all. Luckily for the other teams, this did not happen very often.  
  
Abby swooped toward the goal, faked a shot, and tossed the Quaffle to Slytherin's third Chaser, fourth-year Timothy Brackett. Ravenclaw's Keeper, Terry Boot, fell for Abby's fake, and Timothy scored easily. Ten nothing, Slytherin.  
  
Ravenclaw took possession of the Quaffle, and their Chaser trio of sixth-years Rory Milton and Jessica Wheeler and seventh-year Lisa Turpin moved the ball downfield. However, a pass between Rory and Lisa was intercepted by Cody Van Buren. Cody passed the ball to Timothy, who took a shot at the goal. Terry was ready, though, and blocked the shot easily.  
  
Terry tossed the ball to Lisa, and the Ravenclaw Chasers raced downfield again. One of Ravenclaw's Beaters, Stephen Cornfoot, sent a Bludger flying at Crabbe. Crabbe saw it coming and tried to hit it at Jessica Wheeler, but his aim was off as usual, and the Bludger hit Goyle.  
  
Draco groaned and slapped his forehead. Those morons. He heard the sound of someone giggling, and looked up and saw that it was Padma. "Shut up, Patil," he snapped. Padma stopped laughing, but the amused smirk on her face still remained.  
  
Ravenclaw's Chasers took advantage of the distraction caused by Crabbe and Goyle and moved in on the goal, which was guarded by Slytherin's other female player, seventh-year Tracey Davis. Lisa passed the Quaffle to Jessica, who passed to Rory, who passed it back to Lisa, who took a shot at the goal. Tracey caught the Quaffle and tried to throw it to Timothy, but it was intercepted by Jessica. She tossed the Quaffle to Lisa, who took another shot. This time, it went in. The score was now tied at ten to ten, and Slytherin was down one Beater.  
  
~~~  
  
"Interesting game," Godric Gryffindor commented as he watched the game from his house's section in the stands with some of the seventh-year students. "It certainly has come a long way." The game now known as Quidditch was just beginning to form at the time of his death.  
  
"Quidditch is really big," Ron Weasley said. "My brother Charlie could have turned professional, but he wanted to work with dragons instead."  
  
"Really?" Gryffindor asked. "What position did he play?"  
  
"Seeker," Ron answered. "The Seeker is the one that catches the Snitch to end the game. Harry's the Seeker for our team."  
  
Harry smiled and waved.  
  
"Do you play Quidditch?" Gryffindor asked Ron.  
  
"Play?" Hermione Granger said. "He's the captain!"  
  
"And a Chaser," Ron said. "It sort of runs in my family. My dad was a Chaser, too. Charlie was a Seeker, my brothers Fred and George were Beaters, and my sister Ginny is the Keeper for our team."  
  
Gryffindor looked at Hermione. "What about you, Hermione?"  
  
She shook her head. "No; I like to keep my feet on the ground." She paused, then admitted, "And I'm no good at flying."  
  
"You could be," Harry said. "All it takes is a little practice."  
  
"Easy for you to say," Hermione replied. "Professor McGonagall should have expelled you when you caught that Remembrall. Instead, she made you the Gryffindor Seeker! You'd been flying for what, ten seconds? Eleven, tops? They have a word for stuff like that: amazing."  
  
Harry smiled and turned an interesting shade of red. For eleven years, potato skins had higher status in life than he did. Then, he came to Hogwarts, and everything changed. Fame was practically thrust upon him, as was a great deal of adventure. He wasn't used to that, and even now, after all he'd been through, he still felt awkward when someone commented on his achievements.  
  
"It's not that amazing," Harry mumbled. "Neville's an Animagus, and that's way cooler than being the youngest Quidditch player for a house team.... in... a century."  
  
Neville, who was holding hands with Parvati a few feet away, turned his head in their direction when he heard his name. "What was that?"  
  
"You. Animagus. Very cool," Harry said, significantly louder.  
  
"Oh," Neville said. "But I didn't become an Animagus last summer. Professor McGonagall's got me beat; she's been able to do it since her fourth year."  
  
Parvati rested her chin on Neville's shoulder and said, "Nobody thought Professor McGonagall was a squib, Neville."  
  
"That's true," said Hermione.  
  
"Rowena was sixteen when Hogwarts was founded," Gryffindor said softly.  
  
Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Parvati looked at him., then at each other, and then back at Gryffindor again. Ron said what all of them were thinking: "Yep, that definitely tops everything else."  
  
~~~  
  
Back on the Quidditch pitch, Timothy Brackett had scored again to bring the score to twenty ten, Slytherin. Draco thought he saw the Snitch, but the flash of gold he noticed eye was actually the sun reflecting off the gold ring Padma wore on her right hand. When he moved his head to see where it was coming from, Padma started looking around, too. Draco decided to take advantage of her distraction and fake her out. It was a good strategy - if one could pull it off.  
  
Draco gripped the handle of his Nimbus 2001 and dove straight down. Padma hadn't seen the Snitch, but then again, she had been looking in another direction, so Draco could very well have spotted the tiny gold ball as far as she knew. She whipped her broom around and dove after him.  
  
Draco could see the ground coming up fast, but continued to dive. If he stayed in the dive as long as possible, Padma might think he really was following the Snitch. The crowd gasped as he came out of the dive just inches from the ground. He smiled to himself as he began gaining altitude again. He'd worked hard to perfect that move, and although he didn't play to the crowd intentionally, it often came out that way.  
  
Padma was far enough behind to see him come out of the dive in plenty of time, and pulled up before getting too close to the ground. Draco flew higher, then began zigzagging back and forth. Padma still couldn't see the Snitch. She knew she would have to get closer. She tried to follow Draco in a line as straight as possible, and slowly but surely, she began to gain on him.  
  
Draco glanced back over his shoulder, and he almost couldn't believe what he saw. Was she getting closer? That wasn't supposed to happen. If she got too close, she would see that he wasn't really following the Snitch. So much for that strategy.  
  
He looked forward again, just in time to see a Bludger coming at his face. Draco rolled to the side, and the heavy iron ball missed him by a comfortable margin. By the time Padma saw it, though, it was almost too late. Like Draco, she rolled, but she was just a fraction of a second too slow, and the Bludger hit her in the shoulder and nearly knocked her off her broomstick.  
  
Draco came out of his roll and glanced back at Padma again. She had fallen behind, and her right hand was clasped over her left shoulder. He felt a pang of concern, but quickly brushed it aside. He could wait until after the game to find out if she was all right. Draco had never been what anyone would call a good sport, but he liked Ravenclaw better than Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, and Padma had never done anything to him. Her sister was in Gryffindor, but that was her sister. Why not ask her if she was all right at a more convenient time? It wouldn't hurt.  
  
Draco made a wide arc with his broom and began flying back toward the center of the field. Ravenclaw had scored again, and the two teams were tied at twenty points each. He wasn't too concerned. All he had to worry about was beating Padma to the Snitch, and that wouldn't be too hard, especially now that she appeared to be hurt.  
  
~~~  
  
Parvati cringed when she saw the Bludger hit her sister in the shoulder. "That looked like it hurt," she said. "I hope she's all right."  
  
"It wasn't enough to knock her off her broom," Ron pointed out. "I don't think it could be anything worse than a dislocation."  
  
Parvati turned slightly pale.  
  
"That probably wasn't the best thing to say, Ron," Hermione commented, poking him in the rib cage.  
  
"It's all right," Parvati said. "I'm sure she'll be fine... eventually."  
  
Harry was frowning, and the others noticed. "What is it, Harry?" Neville asked.  
  
"The Snitch," Harry answered. "It wasn't even near them. Look, it's over there, down by the Ravenclaw goal."  
  
"Malfoy," Ron realized. "That sneaky rat! He must have been trying to distract her."  
  
"Which one is Malfoy?" Gryffindor asked.  
  
"The blonde one," Ron asked. "He's their Seeker. His sole purpose in life is to make ours miserable."  
  
Gryffindor nodded. "Indeed. Have you ever tried to make friends with him?"  
  
"Well... no, not really, but that's all right because he hates me as much as I hate him. Our families have always hated each other, and besides, all the Slytherins hate the Gryffindors, and vice versa."  
  
Gryffindor sighed softly and turned his eyes back to the game. It wasn't always that way. He remembered when he and Salazar Slytherin believed the students of their houses would love each other like brothers, as they did and as they were. He hated how history had been twisted over the centuries and that now, everyone thought he and Salazar were enemies. Yes, they disagreed on some things, but that didn't mean they hated each other. If only Rowena had survived. If only he hadn't been killed. If only Kedelor hadn't been a Muggle-born. If only...  
  
~~~  
  
Draco spotted another flash of gold out of the corner of his eye, and he was sure it wasn't Padma's ring this time. He swooped around Crabbe, who appeared to be lost, and zoomed toward the Snitch. Downfield, Padma saw both him and the Snitch and began flying toward him. She was coming up fast, but by the time she caught up to him, she would be too late.  
  
Draco leaned forward. The Snitch was just inches away. Suddenly, the tiny gold ball darted to the left. Draco reached out and grabbed it, doing a flip in the process. He managed to stay on his broom, and held the Snitch up high for all to see. Madam Hooch blew her whistle. The game was over, and the final score was one hundred seventy to twenty, Slytherin. Draco smiled triumphantly. Hello, second place.  
  
"You idiot," came a voice from below. "Watch where you're going!"  
  
Draco looked down. It was Padma, lying in a crumbled heap on the ground and looking quite angry. Next to her was Crabbe, also on the ground. Draco flew down to them and hopped off his broom. "Is there a problem?" he asked.  
  
"He flew into me!" Padma said.  
  
"It was an accident!" Crabbe said defensively. "I was watching the Bludger, and I didn't see her!"  
  
"Obviously," Padma grumbled.  
  
Draco looked at Crabbe. "You did it on purpose, didn't you?"  
  
Crabbe lowered his head and mumbled, "Yes."  
  
Draco rolled his eyes. "I swear, Crabbe, between you and Goyle, it's a wonder we win any games." He extended his hand to Padma. She glared at Crabbe, then took Draco's hand, and he helped her to her feet. "Are you all right?"  
  
She brushed some grass off her dark blue robes and replied in the affirmative without looking at him.  
  
"How's your shoulder?" Draco asked.  
  
Padma shot him a surprised look. "When did you start caring?"  
  
Draco didn't get a chance to answer because the rest of his team, save for the unconscious Goyle (who had already been taken to the hospital wing), surrounded him and began congratulating him. "Way to go, Malfoy," Cody said, and slapped him on the back. "That was some catch."  
  
"The flip was a nice touch," Tracey added, and the rest of the team laughed.  
  
Draco peered over Timothy's shoulder to see if Padmawas still there, but she had already flown away. He saw something gold catch the sun and flash, but knew it couldn't be the Snitch because he was still holding it in his hand. He stepped around Timothy to get a closer look, and he saw Padma's gold ring lying in the grass. It must have fallen off when Crabbe flew into her. He picked it up and looked around for its owner, but Padma was long gone.  
  
Draco slipped the ring into his pocket and mounted his broom to take a victory lap with the rest of the Slytherins. He could return the ring to Padma later, without the distraction of having other people around. For now, it was time to celebrate.  
  
In the distance, a hooded figure holding a pair of binnoculars smiled maliciously. 


	10. Midnight Meeting

CHAPTER TEN: MIDNIGHT MEETING  
  
~~~  
  
After dinner that night, Draco Malfoy waited outside the entrance to the Great Hall in hopes that Padma Patil would walk by sometime soon. Padma hadn't come out yet, but many other people saw him on their way back to their dorms, and if they were from Slytherin house, they would usually try to talk to him. Draco pasted on a smile and told everyone that he was waiting for someone, but would not tell them who if they asked.  
  
Draco almost mistook Parvati for Padma as the twin who was sorted into Gryffindor house came out of the Great Hall, and stopped himself from calling out her name when she saw that she was wearing Gryffindor robes. Parvati glanced in his direction as she walked by, and a look of disdain crossed her face. Draco had to bite his tongue to keep from saying anything. He knew Parvati had never liked him, and it had only gotten worse since she'd starting dating Neville Longbottom three years ago.  
  
"Draco Malfoy?"  
  
Draco turned around, and almost gasped when he saw who had addressed him. Standing behind him was a tall, handsome man with golden hair and bright blue eyes. Next to him, holding on to his arm, was a very beautiful woman with deep brown eyes and long, dark hair. Both of them were over a foot taller than he was. Draco had never seen either one of them up close before, but he knew immediately who they were: Godric Gryffindor and Rowena Ravenclaw.  
  
It was Gryffindor who had spoken, and Draco wondered how he knew his name. "Yes?" he said, trying to sound like he wasn't startled.  
  
"You did well in the game today," Gryffindor said, and Rowena nodded in agreement.  
  
"Uh... thank you." Draco looked at Rowena, then quickly said, "Your team is very good, by the way."  
  
"Thank you, but yours is better," she replied.  
  
"Salazar would have been proud," Gryffindor said with a hint of fondness in his soft voice.  
  
Draco didn't know what to say. He'd always been under the impression that Gryffindor and Slytherin were bitter enemies - after all, the students in their houses had always behaved that way. But here was Gryffindor himself, standing in front of a prefect of Slytherin house and a self-proclaimed Gryffindor hater, speaking of Slytherin as if he were a friend.  
  
He was so surprised by Gryffindor's words that he almost didn't see Padma Patil walk by.  
  
"Padma!" Draco called as the pretty Ravenclaw Seeker walked past him.  
  
Padma stopped, turned around, and looked at him. She seemed rather upset. "What do you want, Malfoy?"  
  
Draco reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring. "I found this on the Quidditch pitch," he said. "Is it yours?"  
  
Her eyes lit up, and she gasped. "Yes!" she cried. "You found it! Thank you!"  
  
She threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. Two seconds later, she remembered that he was Draco Malfoy, and let him go. She coughed, and Draco thought he saw her cheeks turn red.  
  
"You're welcome," Draco said, and gave Padma the ring.  
  
She smiled at him and slipped the ring onto her finger. "Really, thank you," she said. "Parvati gave this to me for our birthday last year. It means a lot to me, and I was really upset when I lost it."  
  
Draco felt the kind of satisfaction that only comes from doing a good deed, something that didn't happen very often because of the lack of good deeds he performed on a regular basis. "No problem."  
  
Padma glanced at the rest of the students leaving the Great Hall, then said, "I, uh, have to go. Thanks again." She smiled at him, then left.  
  
Draco almost couldn't believe it. Padma Patil, probably the best-looking girl in the school, actually smiled at him. Maybe being nice wasn't such a bad thing after all.  
  
"Friend of yours?" Rowena asked.  
  
Draco shrugged. "Not yet, but I can try."  
  
Gryffindor smiled and nodded. "It seems that the young women of the house of Ravenclaw are as alluring as ever." He looked at Draco. "Again, you did a fine job today. Good night."  
  
"Good night," Rowena echoed, and the two of them walked away.  
  
"Good night," Draco said. He could barely believe that just happened. It was strange enough that Godric Gryffindor was alive. Now the founder of his rival house had actually come up to him and congratulated him on his performance in the Quidditch game! No Gryffindor had ever done that before. Leave it to the original Gryffindor to be a trendsetter, Draco thought. He seemed totally oblivious to the Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry, and that didn't make any sense. Of anyone, he should know about it! It was started by him, after all!  
  
Draco sighed and began walking toward the Slytherin dormitory. Apparently, there were a lot of things about Gryffindor that were either unknown or had been twisted throughout history. For one thing, he seemed to be quite attracted to Rowena Ravenclaw, and Draco had never heard anything about a relationship between those two. He would have to talk to someone about them, someone who knew the Hogwarts Four inside and out. Helga Hufflepuff, perhaps? She seemed approachable as well as neutral. Yes, she would do. He would track her down sometime tomorrow.  
  
Draco had almost reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room when a large owl swooped down in front of him and dropped a letter on the floor. He glanced around to see where the owl had landed, but it had gone as quickly and mysteriously as it came. His gaze fell to the letter lying on the floor, and he was surprised to see that it was addressed to him.  
  
He knelt down and picked up the letter. The only thing written on it was his name. Even the seal was nothing more than a clump of red wax. He broke the seal, unfolded the letter, and read it. It contained instructions: Be at the Quidditch pitch at midnight.  
  
Draco laughed. "Nice try, Potter," he called in case Harry was within earshot. He wasn't stupid enough to fall for that old trick.  
  
Draco's amusement vanished, though, when he looked at the letter again and saw that more words had materialized on the paper: It isn't Potter this time, Malfoy. In the name of Salazar Slytherin, be at the Quidditch pitch at midnight.  
  
~~~  
  
"He wasn't too bad," Gryffindor commented as he and Rowena walked toward the Ravenclaw tower. "Certainly not as bad as Ron and the others were making him out to be."  
  
"True, but people are not always what they seem," Rowena said. "I suppose that could go either way in this case. Ron, Harry, Hermione, Neville, Parvati, and the others could find out that Draco is a good person deep down inside, or we could discover that he really is a... what did they call him?"  
  
"A conceited bastard."  
  
"Right. A conceited bastard."  
  
They reached the entrance to the Ravenclaw tower, and with a kiss, departed ways, agreeing to meet later in what had been named their "secret place" long ago. They weren't sure how much longer it would remain secret, though; in fact, they had reason to believe it had already been discovered. After all, not even Hogwarts could keep all its secrets forever.  
  
When Rowena entered her house's common room, she found it occupied by six students, four girls and two boys. She was trying to memorize the names of all the Ravenclaw students, and she was pretty sure she could name off these six. One girl was reading a book in an armchair near the fireplace. Rowena recongized her as Jane White, a fourth-year. Another girl, a second-year named Erin Nitta, was writing at a table in the corner. The other two girls, seventh-years Padma Patil and Lisa Turpin, were sitting on a couch. The two boys, seventh-years Stephen Cornfoot and Terry Boot, were sitting on the floor in front of the couch. Padma was telling the other three seventh-years how her ring had been returned.  
  
"... and I thought it was gone for good when I came out of the Great Hall after dinner and Draco Malfoy stopped me," she said. "He found it, and he gave it back to me."  
  
Lisa's eyes grew wide. "Draco Malfoy actually did a good deed?" she said in disbelief.  
  
Apparently, it's not just the Gryffindors, Rowena thought. She wondered how the Hufflepuffs felt about Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherins.  
  
"Yes, he did," Padma said with a hint of anger in her voice, "and I think it was very nice of him."  
  
"Quick, someone send an owl to Professor Snape and tell him that Padma just awarded Slytherin house fifty points," Terry said, and he, Stephen, and Lisa laughed.  
  
"Very funny," Padma said, and folded her arms across her chest.  
  
"I think she's got a soft spot for the Slytherins," Stephen teased.  
  
"I think she does, too," said Lisa. "Next thing you know, she'll be telling us that she thinks Malfoy's cute."  
  
Padma played with her ring for a moment, then said in a soft voice, "You know, when he doesn't have an arrogant sneer on his face, he is kind of cute."  
  
Lisa put her hand on her friend's shoulder. "Padma, snap out of it," she said. "I'll say it slowly for you: Sly-ther-in. What part of 'Sly-ther-in' don't you understand?"  
  
"And what," said Rowena, getting their attention, "is wrong with Slytherin?"  
  
"Oh, hi, Lady Ravenclaw," Stephen said with an innocent smile. "Uh... how long have you been standing there?"  
  
"Since 'and I thought it was gone for good'," Rowena answered, "and there is no need to call me Lady Ravenclaw. To you, I am Rowena. However, if you still insist on formality, you may call me Lady Gryffindor, but not until tomorrow. Godric doesn't know yet, and I want to surprise him."  
  
"Wait a second," said Terry. "You mean you and Lord Gryffindor are..."  
  
Rowena looked mildly surprised. "Goodness, I thought it would be common knowledge by now. Yes, Godric and I are married. I couldn't change my name then because circumstances required our marriage to be one of utmost secrecy, but now... well, it doesn't matter anymore."  
  
"That is so sweet," said Lisa. "Godric Gryffindor and Rowena Ravenclaw... a match made in Heaven."  
  
"Actually, it was a match made in a cave underneath a mountain in northern China while fleeing from an angry dragon, but let's not get into that," Rowena said. "I have just four words for you: draco dormiens nunquam titillandus. Now, about Slytherin. Why is it that all the students at Hogwarts seem to dislike the Slytherins?"  
  
"It's a two-way street," said Terry. "All the Slytherins hate the rest of the school, too. It's been that way for as long as anyone can remember."  
  
"What was Salazar Slytherin like?" asked Padma.  
  
A small smile crossed Rowena's face as she brought up memories of her brother-in-law. "He had a wonderful sense of humor," she said. "Between him and Godric... it could get interesting. He was also clever and idealistic, but very proud and ambitious, which ultimately led to his departure from Hogwarts. Helga told me that he refused to return to the school after Godric and I died."  
  
"Were you friends with him?" asked Stephen.  
  
Rowena sighed, glanced at the fireplace for a moment, then turned her eyes back to the four students. "He was like a brother to me."  
  
~~~  
  
It wasn't easy, but Draco Malfoy managed to be at the Quidditch pitch at midnight as the letter instructed. It appeared to be completely deserted, but the eerie chill that hung in the air told Draco that he wasn't alone. "Hello?" he called, glancing around nervously. "Is anyone here?"  
  
"Yes," came a soft voice from the shadows. "Over here."  
  
Draco made his way toward the voice. "Where are you?"  
  
A tall, hooded figure stepped into the moonlight. "Right here," he said. "Do you know who I am, Draco Malfoy?"  
  
"Well, you seem to know who I am," Draco said.  
  
The man chuckled. "Audacity seems to be the signature trait of your family. Your father acted the same way when he first entered my service."  
  
Draco's heart nearly stopped beating. "Lord Voldemort?" he choked.  
  
"Yes," Voldemort confirmed. "Very good, Draco."  
  
"What are you doing here?"  
  
"We need your help," Voldemort said. "The time has come to cleanse the wizarding world of all the filth that has accumulated in it over the centuries, but before we can strike, we must know everything that is going on at Hogwarts."  
  
"'We'?" Draco repeated. "Then it's true? You really did resurrect Salazar Slytherin?"  
  
Now it was Voldemort's turn to be surprised. "How did you know I resurrected Slytherin?"  
  
"Potter," Draco grumbled. "He sensed it. They took him so seriously that they went and resurrected Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff, too."  
  
"WHAT?!?" Voldemort cried. He then realized that shouting wasn't a good idea because it might alert someone to their presence, so he took several deep breaths before continuing. "The other three have been resurrected? But how? Who were the descendants?"  
  
"Potter for Gryffindor, Professor McGonagall for Ravenclaw, and Nicolas Flamel for Hufflepuff."  
  
Voldemort sighed and turned his eyes to the moon above. "This complicates things," he said, mostly to himself. He looked at Draco again. "Listen to me, Draco. Your role was important before, but now, Slytherin and I cannot carry through with our plans without your cooperation. I have to know everything that they're planning. They must not make a single move without me knowing about it first. I will send you another owl tomorrow with information about how to contact me."  
  
"Why should I help you?" Draco asked. Slytherin or not, Draco wasn't so sure about helping someone he knew was evil incarnate.  
  
Voldemort narrowed his eyes. "Because if you don't, I will make you beg for death before the end."  
  
~~~  
  
Voldemort's mind was spinning as he left the Quidditch pitch after his conversation with Draco. Resurrected! Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff had been resurrected! Their plan would have been hard enough to pull off without their presence, but now that they were here... Why did something like this always have to happen to him?  
  
Then, Voldemort had another thought: Slytherin. Slytherin made it quite clear that he and Gryffindor were not the enemies the world thought they were. Voldemort feared that if Slytherin knew his brother was alive, he would abandon their cause and join Gryffindor. Until Voldemort could find some way to twist this to his advantage, Salazar Slytherin could not know that Godric Gryffindor and the others were alive.  
  
~~~  
  
Over in the Gryffindor tower, pain shot through Harry Potter's head, jerking him awake. He sat up in bed and pressed his hand to his scar. It wasn't too bad compared to the last time it had happened, and the pain soon passed.  
  
"Harry?" It was Ron. Harry's movement had woken him up. "Harry, are you all right?"  
  
"It's my scar," Harry said. "It hasn't hurt since before the resurrection."  
  
"Should we tell Dumbledore?" Ron asked.  
  
Harry shook his head. "No. I don't think there's any immediate danger. It can wait until morning."  
  
Ron shrugged. "Whatever you say." 


	11. Changes

CHAPTER ELEVEN: CHANGES  
  
~~~  
  
Draco Malfoy couldn't sleep at all that night. He had far too much on his mind to even think about rest. Voldemort and Slytherin were planning something, and they needed him to pull it off. If it had been anyone else, Draco probably would have felt honored, but not when it was Voldemort. He was evil, pure and simple. Draco knew he wasn't what anyone would call a saint, but next to Voldemort, he was a saint ten times over. The death threat was what Draco found most disturbing. Would he be asked to do something he would have refused under normal circumstances, even with his history and reputation?  
  
When morning came, he was a mess. His skin was paler than normal, and there were bags under his bloodshot grey eyes. His body was weak from exhaustion, and his hands trembled whenever he tried to do anything with them. He hoped that no one would notice, and if they did, they would keep their big mouths shut.  
  
No such luck. Everyone that laid eyes on him wanted to know what was wrong. Even one of the Gryffindors sounded concerned when asking about his condition - Parvati Patil. Draco wondered if Gryffindor had told the students of his house that Slytherins weren't evil just because they were Slytherins. The Ravenclaws seemed to be acting a bit nicer toward him as well, but that might have been because of Padma Patil as well as Rowena Ravenclaw, which was probably also why Parvati wasn't being so vile toward him. Padma must have been really glad to get her ring back because she was paying attention to him and being nice, but not to the extent where it was annoying, which he appreciated. It was amazing what one little act of kindness could do.  
  
The students weren't the only ones who were taking notice of him. The faculty, too, were aware of the change in his condition. In Transfiguration, his first class of the day, Minerva McGonagall asked him to stay after class, and she asked if he was all right. Draco told her that he hadn't slept at all the previous night, but would not explain why. He then told her that he needed to get going or he would be late to his next class, and left.  
  
His next class was Potions with the Gryffindors. Draco was hoping Severus Snape would be too busy picking on the Gryffindors to take any notice of him, but once again, he was out of luck. There would be no slacking in Potions today, as he quickly found out.  
  
Once everyone was seated, Snape informed the class that he had an announcement to make. "We are going to have a guest instructor today," he told them. "Please give her your undivided attention and respect. Anyone who refuses to cooperate or does not follow directions will lose fifty points from their house."  
  
The guest instructor was Helga Hufflepuff.  
  
"Thank you, Professor Snape," Helga said when the floor was turned over to her. She smiled at the class. "Well, as you all know, my name is Helga Hufflepuff, and today, I'll be teaching you how to make Levitation Potion. Before we begin, does anyone have any questions?"  
  
Lavender Brown raised her hand, and Helga nodded at her. "Did you teach Potions when Hogwarts was first founded?" Lavender asked.  
  
Helga nodded. "Yes. My husband was an alchemist, and... well, we had a lot in common."  
  
Seamus Finnigan's hand shot up next, and Helga called on him. "What subjects did the other founders teach?"  
  
"Salazar taught Transfiguration, Rowena taught Charms, and Godric taught a subject equivalent to what is now called Defense Against the Dark Arts," she answered. "After... the summer of 1264, I taught Charms for a time and my husband taught Potions, but as his research grew more time-consuming, he retired from teaching and I moved back to Potions."  
  
Pansy Parkinson raised her hand, and when she was given permission, asked, "Who was your husband?"  
  
"His name was Daniel Flamel," Helga answered. "I understand that our grandson Nicolas is quite famous." She looked around the room, and seeing that no more hands were in the air, said, "Well, if there are no more questions, let us begin. Please find a partner to share a cauldron with, and when you have done so, put in a cup of beetle juice and three drops of dragon blood over low heat."  
  
Draco decided to join forces with Blaise Zabini, and the two of them began to prepare their potion.  
  
"Wait," Helga said. "Perhaps I should be more specific. Please find a partner from the opposite house to work with."  
  
Everyone looked surprised, even Snape. "Well, what are you waiting for?" Helga asked. "Get on with it."  
  
"Want to work with me, Malfoy?" came a soft voice from behind.  
  
Draco turned around and saw that it was Harry Potter who had addressed him. Harry was one of the last people Draco ever wanted to work with, but Lavender Brown, whom he detested the least of all the Gryffindors, had already paired up with Tracey Davis, so she was out of the question. "Fine," Draco said, "but don't even think about messing it up."  
  
"I'll do my best," Harry replied.  
  
When Helga saw that everyone was paired off with a student from the other house, she glanced at Snape for a moment, then issued the instructions again. "Like I said, begin with one cup of beetle juice and three drops of dragon blood."  
  
"I'll get the beetle juice," Harry said, turning the burner below the cauldron to the lowest setting. "You can handle the dragon blood."  
  
Draco made no reply, but got out the requested item and a dropper.  
  
Hermione's hand shot into the air. "Lady Hufflepuff?" she said.  
  
"Yes, Miss Granger?" Helga asked.  
  
"Does it matter which ingredient we put in first?"  
  
"Yes, it does, and thank you for asking. Five points to Gryffindor house," Helga said. "The beetle juice must put in first, and then the dragon blood. And be sure to measure out your ingredients exactly. If you don't, this potion can go very wrong."  
  
Harry carefully measured out exactly one cup of beetle juice, then poured it into the cauldron. "Okay, Malfoy," he said. "Put in the dragon blood."  
  
"Why are you doing this?" Draco asked, carefully letting one drop of dragon blood fall into the cauldron.  
  
"Doing what?" Harry asked as Draco squeezed out another drop.  
  
"Being nice to me," Draco answered. He let the final drop of dragon blood fall into the cauldron, then set the dropper down.  
  
"I didn't know that asking you to work with me fell under being nice," Harry said.  
  
"Nice try, Potter," Draco said. "I can see right through you. It was Gryffindor, wasn't it? What did he say?"  
  
"I bet you didn't know Gryffindor and Slytherin are brothers."  
  
Draco couldn't believe his ears, and he thanked himself for setting the dropper down; otherwise, he certainly would have dropped it on the floor. "What?"  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
"Who told you that?"  
  
"Lady Ravenclaw, the night they were resurrected."  
  
Gryffindor and Slytherin, brothers? Draco was shocked. That seemed impossible, but coming from Rowena Ravenclaw... he doubted she would lie about something like that. He wondered if Voldemort knew. He hoped not. There was no telling what he would do. He decided that he could keep that information to himself.  
  
"Now that you've all put in the dragon blood," Helga said, "carefully add a pinch of chopped daisy root, and then one frozen ashwinder egg. Please come see Professor Snape for the ashwinder egg."  
  
Harry offered to get the ashwinder egg, and while he did that, Draco added a pinch of chopped daisy root to their cauldron.  
  
Just then, an explosion was heard across the room. Gregory Goyle was standing over his cauldron with black marks from the explosion all over his face and robes. Seamus, his partner, was getting an ashwinder egg from the very angry Snape. "Goyle!" Snape barked. "What did I say about following directions? Fifty points from Slytherin!"  
  
All the students looked shocked. Never had any of them seen Snape take any points from Slytherin house. Goyle looked like he was about to faint. Helga, however, appeared perfectly calm. "Really, Professor Snape, that's not necessary," she said, walking over to Goyle's cauldron. "He just added a bit too much chopped daisy roots." She picked up several ingredients from Goyle's workstation and put them into the cauldron. "A little bit of powdered bicorn horn combined with an infusion of wormwood cancels out the effect produced by too much chopped daisy roots. There. Your potion is as good as new, Mr. Goyle and Mr. Finnigan. Just remember not to add the gillyweed when we reach that stage, or it will undo the effects of the bicorn horn and wormwood. Your potion won't be as potent, but it will work."  
  
Goyle looked amazed. "Th-thank y-you, L-lady Hufflepuff."  
  
Helga smiled at him. "Don't mention it, Mr. Goyle. It was a legitimate error that happens all the time. Professor Snape isn't going to take points off your house for that." She looked at Snape. "Are you, Professor?"  
  
"No," Snape said. He was a little peeved about having his authority challenged, but he knew she was right. The punishment was rather harsh for such a simple mistake that even someone as skilled as him could have made.  
  
"Of course not," Helga said, and made her way back to the front of the classroom. "Now then, once you've added the frozen ashwinder egg, take your mortar and pestal and grind four ounces of erumpent hooves into a fine powder..."  
  
~~~  
  
"Hey, Ron?" Harry asked as he and his best friend left Potions. "Does Malfoy seem a little different to you?"  
  
Ron nodded. "Yeah. I've never seen him look so good." Then he laughed. Hermione, who was walking up behind them, laughed as well. Ron and Harry said hello to her, and then she and Ron held hands as they walked.  
  
"Seriously, though," said Harry. "He looks... I don't know. I almost want to say scared."  
  
"Probably because Professor Snape wasn't kidding when he said he'd take fifty points from the house if anyone was goofing off," Hermione said.  
  
"Yeah," Ron agreed. "Goyle's lucky Lady Hufflepuff's so nice. Snape looked ready to kill him."  
  
"But he looked like that when we came in," Harry said.  
  
"Which one?" Hermione asked. "Snape or Malfoy?"  
  
"Malfoy," Harry clarified. Then, unable to pass up an opportunity to make a Slytherin joke, he added, "And Snape, too, I guess." His two friends both chuckled.  
  
"I liked having Lady Hufflepuff as our Potions instructor," Hermione commented. "She's smart and nice, and she can even keep Snape in check."  
  
"I think Snape likes her," said Ron.  
  
Harry and Hermione both shot him surprised looks.  
  
"Not like that," Ron said quickly. "Likes, like friendly like. She's a very likeable person."  
  
"Severus Snape and Helga Hufflepuff," Harry said thoughtfully. "Sounds like Beauty and the Beast."  
  
"I think that's enough of that," said Hermione. "Anyway, she's married, or was, anyway."  
  
"Her husband's dead, but now that I think about it, she's probably too old for him," said Harry. "How old was she when she died?"  
  
"Seventy-five, I think, which isn't that old for a witch, but it doesn't matter because the resurrection spell placed them in their prime," Hermione said. "It really doesn't make sense to ask how old they are now, but if we had to say anything, I'd say Gryffindor and Hufflepuff are both in their early thirties, and Ravenclaw is probably the age at which she died, which would be twenty."  
  
"How do you know all this?" Ron asked.  
  
"Gryffindor and I talked for a while last night, when you two were at Quidditch practice," she answered. "Neville and Parvati were trying to teach him how to play Go Fish again, but he couldn't get the hang of it, and so the four of us had a chess tournament."  
  
"Who won?" inquired Harry.  
  
"I did, but Parvati's rather good herself," Hermione said. "It was between the two of us for the championship. Lord Gryffindor narrowly beat Neville for third place."  
  
"Is there any point to having a chess tournament with only four players?" said Ron.  
  
"Not really, but it was still fun."  
  
~~~  
  
"Interesting," Godric Gryffindor said with a nod of his head. "Most interesting."  
  
Albus Dumbledore glanced up from his paperwork and looked at Gryffindor and Fawkes. "What did he say?"  
  
"He was telling me about the Chamber of Secrets," Gryffindor answered. "Apparently, Salazar built it after my death as a way of punishing all the Muggle-born students for Kedelor's crimes."  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "Ah, yes, the Chamber of Secrets. One student died when it was opened fifty-five years ago. It was opened again five years ago, and thankfully, the only fatality then was the basilisk."  
  
Gryffindor sighed and began stroking the feathers on the phoenix's back. "Salazar meant well, I'm sure, but his methods are rather... extreme."  
  
Fawkes chirped.  
  
"What was that?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"'I agree'," Gryffindor translated.  
  
"Were the two of you close? You and Slytherin, that is."  
  
"Very." Gryffindor stepped away from Fawkes and began walking toward Dumbledore. "He was always there for me, and even though he was so much older than I was, he always treated me as an equal. I don't know if I ever would have so much as looked at Rowena like I did if Salazar hadn't ignored our age difference. And when she and I got married... well, I told you this before. Salazar supported our decision fully, and following our desires, he never breathed a word about the secret marriages. I love my brother, Albus, and I will do whatever it takes to save him."  
  
Dumbledore was touched by Gryffindor's devotion to Slytherin. He had no doubt that Slytherin's feelings for his brother were the same, and he wondered what would happen when the two of them finally saw each other face to face. He wasn't sure if Slytherin knew Gryffindor and the others were alive, and he was guessing that he didn't. If Slytherin knew, he probably would have revealed himself to them already.  
  
Gryffindor sat down in one of the chairs in front of Dumbledore's death and continued speaking. "I wish there was something I could have done for him before I died," he said. "Who knows how many lives could have been saved? Certainly the life of the girl who died when Tom Riddle first opened the Chamber of Secrets, and I cannot help but wonder if Salazar's attitude toward Muggle-borns had been different, your world would not be suffering under the scourge of Voldemort."  
  
"Evil finds a way," Dumbledore said, "just as good does. I'm sure Fawkes has told you about..." He took a deep breath to steady himself, unable to mention this wizard's name without his blood seething. "About Grindelwald."  
  
Gryffindor nodded. "Yes, he has. So, what you're saying is that had it not been the Heir of Slytherin, it would have been someone else?"  
  
"I suppose it can be thought of that way. I'm afraid the world will never be rid of dark magic, but as long as the good can overpower the evil, there will always be hope."  
  
Gryffindor chuckled. "I don't know if I ever asked you what house you were sorted in to, but I do not think there is any need."  
  
Dumbledore felt a smile creep across his face. "Neither do I."  
  
~~~  
  
A/N: Well, I hope that was enjoyable. Okay, bit of advertising. Founders fans, I know you're out there... and because I know you're out there, I have created the following group:   
That link has a tendency not to show up when I upload my stories, so if you can't see it, it's also in my profile. Check it out, e-mail me for info, join, whatever. 


	12. Redemption

A/N: Can it be? Did I update? Whoa... anyhoo, it's late and I'm tired and I've been completely cut off from the outside world for the last month, so I will leave you with one more minor note. I know the story hasn't been really "suspenseful", but I promise it's coming. The next two chapters should be action-packed. Good night.  
  
~~~  
  
CHAPTER TWELVE: REDEMPTION  
  
~~~  
  
Several uneventful weeks passed. Helga Hufflepuff taught a few more Potions classes, and although the Slytherins still preferred Snape, the students from the other houses enjoyed it when she came in. Godric and Rowena Gryffindor decided to follow her example and step back into the classroom themselves. The seventh-year Defense Against the Dark Arts class witnessed a spectacular duel between Gryffindor and Professor Lupin, but the Charms class wasn't so enjoyable. Rowena was so much like Minerva McGonagall in personality and teaching style that it was almost like having Transfiguration. Nevertheless, it was a nice change of pace to get guest instructors, and everyone was learning.  
  
One student, however, was getting worse every day - Draco Malfoy. He knew Voldemort was watching him, waiting for the perfect moment to use him. Draco agreed with the ideals upheld by Salazar Slytherin - it was all he had known while growing up - but the more he thought about it, the more he thought he had picked the losing side. Voldemort was powerful, and so was Slytherin, but so were Dumbledore and the other three Founders. Slytherin was Voldemort's only real asset; most of his Death Eaters had been killed or put in Azkaban after his last uprising was stopped the year before. There were only three of them - himself, Voldemort, and Slytherin - against Albus Dumbledore, Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Gryffindor, and Helga Hufflepuff, not to mention the rest of the Hogwarts faculty and countless other wizards and witches scattered throughout the world that were loyal to Dumbledore. The odds were a bit uneven.  
  
It was getting harder for Draco to make up excuses to explain his dark demeanor. No one believed him anymore when he said he wasn't sleeping well or that the workload from his classes was wearing him down. Hardest of all was to keep his secret from Padma Patil, whom he was becoming quite fond of and spent a lot of time either with or thinking about. On top of that, he hadn't heard from Voldemort in over a week, which could only mean the Dark Lord was planning something. Draco didn't bother asking himself why; he figured he would find out soon enough.  
  
~~~  
  
Voldemort's snake-like eyes followed Salazar Slytherin as he paced back and forth across the cabin floor, muttering to himself. He was getting impatient. They should have taken Hogwarts long before this. They should have done it immediately, before the other Founders were resurrected. He'd recovered by that point. And he didn't know how he was going to keep Slytherin from finding out that the others had been resurrected.   
  
Voldemort sighed and drummed his fingers against the surface of the table he was sitting at. Maybe, he thought, he would be able to kill them before Slytherin could learn that they were alive...  
  
"That's it," Slytherin said, interrupting Voldemort's thoughts. He stopped pacing, looked at his descendant, and repeated his statement. "That's it."  
  
"What's it?" Voldemort asked.  
  
Slytherin either ignored the question or didn't hear it. "I can't believe I didn't think of this before," he said. "It's so simple."  
  
"Salazar!" Voldemort said loudly, getting Slytherin's attention. "What's it?"  
  
Slytherin walked over to the table and sat down. "You said there were two that needed to be eliminated before a victory at Hogwarts could be guaranteed," he said. "Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter."  
  
Voldemort nodded.  
  
"Which, of those two, is it most essential that we get rid of first?"  
  
That question was harder than it sounded. Dumbledore was older, more experienced, and therefore more powerful than Harry, but Harry... every time they faced each other, Harry walked away. It was as though he simply couldn't be killed. There was only once option at this point. "Dumbledore," he said. "He's the leader. If he is destroyed, there is no one that can rise up and take his place." Except maybe Godric Gryffindor, but he wasn't about to say that.  
  
Slytherin sighed and closed his eyes. "My apologies, Emerius, but it must be done," he whispered.  
  
Voldemort resisted the urge to roll his eyes.  
  
Slytherin opened his eyes and looked at Voldemort. "Here is what we must do," he said. "Dumbledore can be rendered useless without ever being touched. All we must do is strike at a weak spot."  
  
"But he has no weaknesses," Voldemort said. "None that I am aware of, anyway."  
  
"Everyone has a weakness," Slytherin said. Then, almost scoldingly, he added, "Yours is power."  
  
"And yours?" Voldemort snapped in return.  
  
"Nothing that can be used against me now," said Slytherin. "My brother."  
  
He should have guessed. After all, it was because of Gryffindor's death that Voldemort left the school and swore to rid the world of Muggle-born wizards and witches. So his "noble purpose" really was pretty noble after all. Even after knowing this for weeks, Voldemort was still surprised by it. He had always expected his ancestor to be more like... well, him.  
  
Slytherin continued. "We have ways of finding out. The Malfoy boy, what was his name?"  
  
"Draco."  
  
"Yes, Draco," he said. "Use him. Tell him to learn a weakness of Dumbledore's and to tell us what it is. We have an asset, and it's time we used it."  
  
Voldemort nodded. "Very well. I will send an owl to him at once."  
  
~~~  
  
The letter from Voldemort renewed Draco's fear that he had joined the wrong side. Voldemort wanted him to find a weakness in Dumbledore. That was like asking him to use Avada Kedevra on the Minister of Magic in front of a thousand Aurors and expect to just walk away. How was he going to do that? Dumbledore seemed invincible. No one scared him, not even Voldemort. What was he going to do?  
  
Draco reread the letter for perhaps the twentieth time. Voldemort didn't say why he needed him to find a weakness, but Draco figured it was probably to kill Dumbledore. Draco didn't understand. If Voldemort wanted Dumbledore dead, then why didn't he just kill him? Perhaps he couldn't...  
  
At that instant, a light came on in Draco's head. Yes! Of course! Dumbledore was the one wizard Voldemort always feared, and that had to be because he was more powerful than him. Draco figured he could go to Dumbledore, tell him what was going on, and ask for protection. He was certain Dumbledore wouldn't refuse. Voldemort wouldn't be happy, but with Dumbledore protecting him, he would be safe. Voldemort and Slytherin needed him, and without his help, a victory on their side was next to impossible.  
  
Draco folded up the letter, stuck it into his robes, and began his search for the headmaster.  
  
~~~  
  
Over in the Gryffindor common room, Neville Longbottom was still no closer to teaching the founder of his house how to play Go Fish. "It's really quite simple," the exapserated Head Boy said. "Look. Say you're trying to collect aces."  
  
"But why would I want to collect aces?" Gryffindor asked.  
  
"Because it's the object of the game to try and collect more pairs than your opponent," Harry Potter explained. Harry had temporarily taken over Parvati Patil's place in trying to teach Gryffindor the game, as Parvati was nowhere to be found.  
  
"But I'm not collecting pairs," said Gryffindor. "I'm collecting aces."  
  
Harry wanted to slap himself on the forehead. Instead, he gave Gryffindor a patient smile. "A pair is two of the same card."  
  
"But isn't every card in a standard deck different?"  
  
"He means same number," said Neville. "Say you have the ace of spades, and you want to get another ace. You would look at me and say, 'Neville, do you have any aces?' If I did, I would give you the ace I had in my hand."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because you asked for it and I was holding it."  
  
Gryffindor smiled and nodded. "How polite."  
  
"I suppose, but it's the rules," said Harry. "If Neville didn't give you the card, he would be cheating."  
  
"And you don't want to cheat with this deck," Neville said, patting his cards. "If you do, they jump up and down and dance around you and chant, 'Cheater, cheater, cheater!' Then you break out in a horrible rash for a week."  
  
Now Gryffindor looked more disappointed than confused. "I hoped that people would play by the rules out of honesty, not fear of being cursed."  
  
"The curse is just a precaution, you know, mostly for the wizarding casinos," said Harry. "And it's not like we know from experience. That was just a warning on the box."  
  
Gryffindor sighed and shook his head. "It's all very confusing."  
  
Before they could get on with explaining the rest of the game, the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open, and an angry-looking Parvati Patil stormed inside. She muttered hellos to Neville, Harry, and Gryffindor, then sat down on a couch at the opposite end of the room with her head down and her arms folded across her chest.  
  
Neville leapt to his feet and jogged over to her. "Hey," he said, sitting down next to her, "are you all right?"  
  
She shrugged.  
  
Neville reached for her hand and gripped it tightly. "What's going on?" he asked. "Where have you been?"  
  
"Trying to talk some sense into my sister," Parvati replied.  
  
"Is she still in to Malfoy?" Harry asked, walking over to the couch. Gryffindor was close behind.  
  
Parvati nodded.  
  
"Well, it can't be too bad," Harry said. "I mean, look on the bright side. What are the chances that Malfoy would even bother with a girl that isn't from Slytherin? Slim to none."  
  
Parvati shook her head vigorously. "No, you don't understand. Draco likes her, too. I overheard Millicent Bulstrode telling Tracey Davis that he's planning to ask Padma out any day now."  
  
Harry cringed. So did Neville. No wonder Parvati was so upset. This was a serious issue.  
  
"I don't understand," said Gryffindor.  
  
"Draco Malfoy is bad news, Lord Gryffindor," said Parvati. "I know you've been trying to get us to give him a chance, but he doesn't deserve one. And it doesn't have anything to do with him being a Slytherin. It's about him being Draco Malfoy."  
  
"Maybe he is not all he seems to be," Gryffindor said.  
  
"I think he's more," said Neville. "More evil, that is."  
  
Gryffindor closed his eyes, and a soft sigh escaped his lips. Clearly, it was going to take a lot of work for them to see Draco, or any other Slytherins, for that matter, in another light. Perhaps their opinions would change if he became involved with Padma Patil. Would Parvati trust her sister's decision? He knew from experience that if you couldn't trust your own flesh and blood, you could trust no one.  
  
~~~  
  
At the other end of the school, Draco was ready to redeem himself when he rounded a corner and saw the person he was looking for. Only he wasn't alone. Dumbledore was deep in conversation with Minerva McGonagall, one of Draco's least favorite people. And - he almost couldn't believe it - were they holding hands? How interesting.  
  
He ducked back around the corner before they could see him, but didn't leave. Perhaps he would overhear something that would prove useful in some way or another.  
  
"I'm worried, Albus," Minerva was saying. "It's been over a month since the resurrections, and Hogwarts hasn't been touched. Shouldn't Voldemort have attacked by now?"  
  
"He could be biding his time," Dumbledore suggested.  
  
"But why? Why didn't he attack the moment he brought Slytherin back? Why the delay?"  
  
"First of all, he was probably too weak," he said. "You experienced firsthand the effects of the resurrection spell. Secondly, Voldemort is a cunning enemy. He's waiting."  
  
"For what?"  
  
"For anything. We cannot drop our guard. We cannot give him an opening."  
  
"And Salazar Slytherin?" Minerva asked. "How do we deal with that factor?"  
  
"We already have," Dumbledore said, and ran his fingers over the scars on her left arm.  
  
She glanced at the scars, then back up at him. "But you know the stance Godric has taken, and Rowena and Helga are with him. They will not fight Slytherin."  
  
Draco nearly jumped at those words. The other Founders wouldn't fight Slytherin? All of a sudden, telling Dumbledore the truth didn't seem like such a good idea after all.  
  
"It will be difficult," Dumbledore admitted. "As they have told us, Slytherin is not evil, but he is the most powerful wizard in history. If Voldemort tricked him into using that power against us..." There was no need for him to finish.  
  
"So it was pointless," said Minerva. "The resurrection... it was all in vain."  
  
"It was not in vain," he insisted. "We've learned so much from them. Now the world can finally know the truth about the Hogwarts Four."  
  
"The truth," she repeated. "Was the truth worth Nicolas Flamel's life?" She froze when she realized what she had said, and stammered, "I'm sorry. I... I didn't mean to..."  
  
"I know," he said, and kissed her on the forehead. "Nicolas knew what he was getting in to. I don't know if he knew it would kill him, but I am sure he knew he was taking that risk."  
  
"I'm sorry," she said again. "I don't know what's wrong with me."  
  
"I do," he replied. "Nothing. None of us have been acting quite like ourselves in the last few weeks."  
  
"You're still as strong as ever."  
  
"Well, perhaps, but it's taken a great deal of effort."  
  
Draco decided that he'd heard enough and started to walk back toward the Slytherin dormitories. This conversation had changed everything. Gryffindor and the others were alive, but they weren't going to fight Slytherin. Professor McGonagall couldn't possibly be the only teacher losing hope. And Dumbledore himself said that Slytherin was the most powerful wizard in history. He and Voldemort were a threat after all, and nothing could stop them once Dumbledore was out of the way. Draco wasn't sure if what he planned to tell Voldemort could be considered a weakness, but if nothing else, it was a place to start.  
  
He had redeemed himself after all.  
  
~~~  
  
"Minerva McGonagall," Voldemort said, setting down the letter Draco sent him. "Of course."  
  
"Who?" Slytherin asked.  
  
"Transfiguration instructor at Hogwarts," Voldemort explained. "Deputy headmistress, head of Gryffindor house, Animagus, and Order of Merlin, second class."  
  
"Pureblood?"  
  
"Half. Her mother was a Muggle."  
  
Slytherin arched an eyebrow. "You seem to know a lot about her."  
  
"She was four years ahead of me at Hogwarts," Voldemort said. "Call it a schoolboy crush that never really went away." He sighed and skimmed over the letter again. "So she's with Dumbledore. If we somehow captured her, do you think he'd be stupid enough to come after her?"  
  
"If he's in love with her, yes," said Slytherin. "Love tends to make people behave... irrationally."  
  
"But how are we going to get her?" Voldemort asked. "She's not as powerful as Dumbledore, but she's no weakling. It won't be easy."  
  
"I would have expected my descendants to be more cunning than what I have seen from you thus far," Slytherin said. He narrowed his dark eyes. "Think, Lord Voldemort. We cannot just walk up, grab her, and go. Even if we could get in, it would be easy for them to stop us. But suppose it didn't happen that way. Suppose she just vanished into thin air."  
  
Voldemort's lips twisted into a smile as he realized what Slytherin was saying. Perfect. Slytherin had his uses after all. And according to Draco, the other Founders would not fight Slytherin. For the first time since he learned about the resurrection of the other three, things were working out better than he had anticipated.  
  
"You know what must be done, then?" Slytherin asked.  
  
Voldemort nodded. "Portkey."  
  
Slytherin smiled, but did not speak. There was no need for words.  
  
Voldemort sat down at the table and began to compose his next list of instructions for Draco. The plan was so simple it was practically foolproof. Better yet, by the time anyone at Hogwarts realized what happened, it would be too late. 


	13. Into Thin Air

A/N: Well, I was wrong; it looks like I managed to crank out another update before leaving after all.  It starts to pick up in this chapter, and I promise that there will be LOTS of action in the next one.  And yes, I know my Voldemort sucks… I've always had problems writing him.  (Those of you who read my other stories may have noticed that I've never written a story with him as the main villain!  ^_^)   He, and this story (hopefully) will get better in upcoming chapters.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: INTO THIN AIR

            Draco's reaction to the Portkey idea was very similar to the one Voldemort and Slytherin had.  The plan was perfect.  If everything worked out, as it was sure to do, they would be rid of both Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall.  Draco almost couldn't believe that twenty-four hours ago, he was ready to renounce his allegience with the Dark Lord.  The very thought was enough to make him smile.

            He walked to his first class that day, History of Magic with the Gryffindors, feeling better than he had in a long time, and it showed.  People stared at him as he walked by smiling, something he hadn't done since agreeing to help Voldemort.  Professor Vector commented on his sudden change in personality as she walked by, and Draco made a comment on the wonders of a good night's sleep.  He had slept well the previous night, but that wasn't entirely why he was feeling so good.

            He had it in his bookbag - the object that would get rid of Minerva McGonagall forever, and hopefully Albus Dumbledore as well.  It was a letter addressed to Minerva, charmed to turn into a Portkey at exactly three oh seven that afternoon.  His plan was to place it outside the door to her classroom, then knock on the door and leave.  She would open the door, see the letter, pick it up, and be transported to wherever it was Voldemort and Slytherin were hiding.  Then his part would be done, and he could sit back and watch Hogwarts fall.  It was too simple to go wrong.

            He had just put his hand on the door to Professor Binns's classroom when a group of Ravenclaw girls walked past him, each carrying an armful of textbooks.  Padma Patil was with them, and a sudden urge to do what he had been contemplating for several weeks overtook him.  "Padma!" he called, and started walking to catch up to the girls.  "Could I talk to you for a minute?"

            The girls stopped walking, and Padma stepped forward.  "Sure," she said.

            "Alone?" Draco added in a lower voice.

            Padma looked back at her friends.  "I'll catch up," she told them.  "Yes, Lisa, I'm aware of the time."

            Lisa Turpin had been pointing at her watch.

            When the other girls had left, Padma gave Draco her full attention and smiled.  "You seem to be feeling better," she commented.

            He nodded.  "I am."

            "What happened?"

            "Oh, you know... things just worked out," he said.  "But look, we're short on time, so I'm just going to say this before I lose my nerve.  Want to go out sometime?"

            Padma dropped the books in her arms, blushed, and bent down to pick them up.  "I'd love to," she said, standing up.

            His good day just got better.  "Great," he said, smiling at her.  "There's a Hogsmeade visit on Saturday.  Want to hang out?"

            "Sounds fun," she said.  She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.  "I, uh... I'd better get going; don't want to be late..."

            "What class do you have?" he asked.

            "Transfiguration," she answered.  "You know how McGonagall gets, and..."

            He nodded.  "Yeah, I know.  See you in... Charms, right?"

            "Yeah, Charms," she confirmed.  She smiled at him.  "Bye."

            "Bye," he returned as she hurried off to catch up with her friends.  He smiled to himself.  Not exactly smooth and sophisticated, but it got the job done.  He hadn't dated any girls outside of Slytherin house during his time at Hogwarts, so it would be interesting to see how he and Padma hit it off.  He was optimistic about it, but then again, he was feeling optimistic about just about everything at the moment.

            He placed his hand on the door to the History of Magic classroom and went inside, hoping the Hogsmeade visit wouldn't be cancelled because a teacher was missing.

            As Neville Longbottom and Parvati Patil entered the History of Magic classroom, they noticed that Draco was back to his normal smiling, arrogant self.  At the moment, he was deep in conversation with Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini and seemed to be enjoying himself.  Parvati scowled when she saw him.  "What's he so happy about?"

            "We could ask," Neville suggested halfheartedly.

            She looked at him and arched an eyebrow.

            Neville shrugged.  "Or not."

            They took their seats in the second row with no further commentary.  More students made their way into the room, and one by one, sat down at their desks.  A few took out quills and parchement, but not many.  Professor Binns didn't even notice when people slept in his class anymore.

            "Good morning," Professor Binns said in his dull, hollow voice as he entered through the blackboard.  "I have an announcement."

            At that, everyone snapped to attention.  Professor Binns never had announcements.

            "The lesson I had planned for today was a lecture on the Italian Vampire Convention of 1466," he said, "but instead, it shall be a time for you to ask questions pertaining to the founding of Hogwarts.  Answering them will be the only people who can."

            The doors opened again, and through them came Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Gryffindor, and Helga Hufflepuff.  They walked up to the front of the room and stood in a line facing the astonished class.  Professor Binns muttered something nobody caught and floated back to his desk.

            "Good morning," the ever-cheerful Helga said.  "You all know who we are, so I don't think there's any need to introduce ourselves.  If you have any questions pertaining to the founding of Hogwarts or to any of us, now is the time to ask them."

            The first hand in the air was, naturally, Hermione's.  When she was called upon, Hermione lowered her hand and said, "What year was Hogwarts founded?"

            "1260," Gryffindor answered.  "Yes, Miss Brown?"

            Lavender Brown dropped her hand.  "Did you build the castle?" she asked.

            "We added to it," said Helga.  "The original structure consisted of the Great Hall and some of the surrounding towers and corridors.  We felt it was too small to suit our needs, and I see that more has been added since our time.  Miss Davis?"

            "Whose idea was it to start a school?" Tracey Davis asked.

            Gryffindor took the question.  "It was more a realization than an idea.  Helga had been teaching children magic for a few years, and Rowena was an apprentice of hers.  When Salazar and I met them, persecution from Muggles was becoming a greater threat every day.  One day, a group of Muggles learned where Helga was teaching and attacked the class.  No one was killed, but we all knew it was time wizarding children could learn without fear, so it was agreed that we would start a school."

            Seamus Finnigan raised his hand, and when he was called upon, asked, "Did you select a headmaster or headmistress?"

            "Yes," said Rowena.  "Helga was the headmistress, and Salazar was the deputy head.  After three years, Helga was the only one left."

            Hermione's hand went back into the air.  "Why did Slytherin leave the school?"

            Helga was the only one who could answer that question.  "As you all know, Salazar Slytherin believed that only purebloods should be allowed to attend Hogwarts," she began.  "He thought it would be in the best interest of both wizards and Muggles if the two societies were completely seperated.  The rest of us disagreed, but Godric was the most outspoken about the matter.  He and Salazar would get in arguments every once in a while, but it was not enough to drive them apart.  Then Godric was killed by a Muggle-born wizard named Kedelor, and Rowena died a week later.  Salazar came back to Hogwarts, and Daniel and I tried to convince him to stay, but he would not.  He swore to avenge his brother's death, and a few months later, he killed Kedelor.  That was the last we heard of him."

            A silence followed this, and then Dean Thomas raised his hand.  "Why did you pick this place to build a school?"

            "The castle and grounds were donated by the orignal owners, Helga's family," Rowena said.

            "They ruled from here for about a hundred years, and then the castle in Wales was built," said Helga.  "That castle was destroyed when the monarchy was overthrown in 1192, but my family was able to keep this land and castle."

            "Were you royalty?" Millicent Bulstrode blurted out without raising her hand.

            A patient smile crossed Helga's face.  "No, but we were very high-ranking nobility.  I think one of my great-grandmothers may have married a prince at some point."  She shrugged.  "I'm not quite sure."

            This went on for the rest of the class.  The students learned where the name ("It's a type of lily that used to grow here," said Rowena) and the motto ("An interesting little adventure," Helga said with a laugh) came from, and also things like how the students were chosen and what changes had taken place since the earliest days of Hogwarts.  It was the first time anybody besides Hermione stayed awake the entire period.

            "Wish we had them every day," Neville said to Parvati when the class ended and the students were leaving.

            Parvati nodded.  "Yeah.  You know what's funny, though?"

            "What?"

            "We still haven't had a History of Magic teacher who wasn't dead."

            Draco's good day showed no signs of getting worse as it wore on.  Charms went particularly well.  He didn't remember what the lesson was, though; he found watching Padma much more interesting.  At the end of the class, they made plans to meet later that day.  She had Quidditch practice right after classes, so they agreed to meet right after that.  That was fine with him.  This way, he didn't have to come up with an excuse to make sure the Portkey was in place.

            The Portkey was the only thing that he was concerned about.  He found himself checking his bag periodically to make sure it was there, which it always was.  His concern was transformed into excitement, though, as three oh seven ticked closer and closer.  That day's Transfiguration class was the most enjoyable one he'd ever had at Hogwarts; mainly owing to the fact that after today, he would never have to look at Minerva McGonagall's face again.  He hoped Voldemort would kill her.  Maybe he would even make it slow and painful.

            When the bell rang at three o'clock, signalling the end of classes for the day, Draco hurried over to the Transfiguration department in order to be in position on time.  It was three oh three when he reached his destination, still too early to put the letter out.  He waited, watching the seconds tick by on his watch.  The hallway was completely deserted and silent as a grave.  He could hear the occasional shuffling of papers inside, which told him Minerva was right where he wanted her.

            Three oh five.  Still too soon…

            The next minute seemed to last longer than the previous two put together.  Finally, though, three oh six came, and Draco pulled the letter out of his bookbag.  "Good-bye, Professor McGonagall," he mumbled as he set it down on the floor just in front of the door.

            Forty-five seconds.

            For an instant, Draco thought he heard footsteps, but he dismissed it as nerves, and the sound didn't come back.

            Thirty seconds.

            _Come on_, he thought.  What he wouldn't give for a Time Turner.

            Twenty seconds.

            _Almost time_.  He raised his fist in preparation to knock on the door.

            Ten seconds.

            Nine… eight… seven…

            Just then, he heard the footsteps again, and this time, there was no mistaking it.  Someone was coming.  He ducked around the corner into a side hall, hoping the passing person would continue on their way without seeing either him or the Portkey.

            Draco glanced around into the main hallway, and saw Helga Hufflepuff walking along, humming to herself.  She stopped humming, and stopped walking as well, just as she passed the entrance to Minerva's classroom.

            "Oh, what do we have here?" she said, glancing at what Draco feared was the Portkey.

            His fears were confirmed when she said, "Hmm, a letter to Minerva.  She must be in here; I'll take it to her…"

            "No!" Draco cried, and leapt out from his hiding spot.

            But it was too late.  By the time the warning left his lips, she was long gone.


	14. Second Chances

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: SECOND CHANCES

            This was bad.

            This was very bad.

            In fact, he didn't know when things had been worse.

            Feeling rather sick, Draco sank to his knees on the cold stone floor.  The fail-proof plan had failed.  What would Voldemort do when Helga Hufflepuff appeared instead of Minerva McGonagall?  What would Dumbledore, Gryffindor, and the others do when they discovered Helga was missing?  And what would happen to Helga?  Draco had nothing against her; in fact, of the three Founders resurrected at Hogwarts, he liked her best.  Would Voldemort kill her?  Probably.  And what would happen to him?  Death?  Or worse?  Who could protect him now?  Who _would_?

            Just then, the door to Minerva's classroom opened, and she came out into the hall.  "Malfoy?" she said when she saw Draco.  "Was that you who yelled just then?"

            Draco didn't know what to do.  Should he lie to her, or should he tell the truth?  Which would have the worst consequences?

            "Answer me, Mr. Malfoy.  Was that you?"

            What else could he do?  He'd obviously failed Voldemort.  The Dark Lord would be coming after him next.  Perhaps he could still redeem himself.  "Yes."

            "What happened?"

            "Lady Hufflepuff's gone."

            "Gone?" Minerva repeated.  "What do you mean, gone?  Where did she go?"

            "Wherever You-Know-Who is."

            "_What_?"

            He took a deep breath, then told her the whole story.

            When Helga's world stopped spinning, she found herself lying on a cold, hard, wooden floor.  She didn't know where she was, but it was definitely not Hogwarts.  The letter had fallen out of her hand and was now on the floor a few feet away.  She rubbed her head and tried to make sense of the situation through the nausea produced by the sudden trip.  It had to be a Portkey.  There was no other explanation.  But why would a letter to Minerva be a Portkey?

            She didn't have time to think about that question.  "What happened?" came a cold, shrill voice.  "You're not McGonagall…"

            Helga turned her head in the direction of the voice and saw a man standing in front of a brick wall, but it was unlike any man she'd ever seen.  His face was oddly snakelike, with slits for nostrils and unnatural red eyes.  There was even a hissing sound to his voice as he spoke.  It occurred to her that this might be Voldemort, the dark wizard they had been resurrected to fight, but if this was Voldemort, where was Slytherin?

            "Who are you?" the man hissed.

            "Who are _you?" Helga returned defiantly._

            "I am Lord Voldemort, the greatest wizard in the world," he said haughtily, as though he wasn't used to people not knowing who he was.  "Who are you to question who I am?"

            So it _was Voldemort.  "Then you should know who I am," she said.  "You resurrected one of my best friends a few weeks ago."_

            Voldemort's red eyes narrowed.  "Let me guess.  Helga Hufflepuff."

            "In the flesh."

            Immediately after she was done speaking, her wand was in her hand, and she shot a jet of blue light at Voldemort.  He dodged her spell, and before she could attack again, he hit her with a Disarming Spell.  "Pathetic," Voldemort mumbled, then pulled his wand back in preparation to hit her with the Cruciatus Curse.

            Helga lifted her arm up and pointed her finger at Voldemort.  He let out a cry of surprise as he was lifted several feet into the air.  She spread her fingers apart, and he flew backwards into the brick wall.  She stood up, breathing hard.  She was born with the rare ability to perform magic without a wand, but it took a lot out of her.  "Where is Salazar?" she demanded.

            Voldemort glared at her for a brief moment, and then pointed his wand at her.  "_Crucio_!"

            It felt like she had been hit by a thousand flaming swords.  The pain was too great for her to remain standing, and she collapsed to the floor, unable to scream because she was unable to breathe, and unable to breathe because every time she tried to take in air, it felt like inhaling both fire and ice.  It was torture unlike any her mind had ever conceived.

            Just when she thought she was going to die from the pain, a door in the wall behind her opened, and a familiar voice from her past said, "What's going on?"

            "SALAZAR!" Helga cried with what remained of her air supply.  "Help!"

            Voldemort released her from the Cruciatus Curse, and she lied on the floor, gasping for air and coughing up blood.

            Slytherin couldn't believe his eyes.  "_Helga?  What are you doing… alive?"_

            "We were resurrected, just like you!"

            Slytherin looked at Voldemort.  "What have you done to her?"

            "Stay out of this, Slytherin," Voldemort growled.  "This doesn't concern you."

            "THIS DOESN'T CONCERN ME?!?" Slytherin cried.  "Oh no, Lord Voldemort, I think it does."  

He picked up his staff and pointed the end with the silver snake head at his descendant.  "We were trying to capture a Hogwarts teacher named Minerva McGonagall," he said.  "Instead, we ended up with Helga Hufflepuff, someone whom I was under the impression was _dead.  However, it would seem that she is _not_ dead, and one cannot help but wonder how she came to be sent here instead of McGonagall.  The only logical explanation is that she took the Portkey meant for McGonagall, who is at Hogwarts, which can only mean that Helga was at Hogwarts as well."  He narrowed his dark eyes.  "You knew, didn't you?  You knew they had been resurrected, and you didn't tell me."_

"Of course I knew," Voldemort spat.  "And how could I have told you?  If you knew they were alive, you never would have agreed to follow along with my plans."

"How could you do this to me?" Slytherin asked.  "I trusted you.  I trusted you before I ever met you!  It was your duty to save both the wizard and Muggle worlds by separating them, not to murder, lie, and betray!"

"Your blood may flow in my veins, Slytherin, but I will never be you," said Voldemort.  "It's a different world now, one where your idealistic philosophies will never hold.  You can't win the battle if you don't fight."

"You're wrong.  I have been fighting.  However, it would seem that I have been fighting for the wrong side."  He pulled his staff back and drummed his fingers against the silver snake head.  "You used me."

"I resurrected you," said Voldemort.  "You wouldn't even be here if it weren't for me.  You owe me your allegiance."

"He owes you nothing!" said Helga fiercely.  "Don't listen to him, Salazar!"

Voldemort pointed his wand at her, then pulled it back.  She was yanked into the air by invisible arms and thrust toward him.  He put her in a headlock with his right arm and conjured a dagger in his free hand, which he then held to her neck.  "Swear your unconditional loyalty to me, Slytherin, or I will kill her."

"Don't do it!" Helga said.  "My life's not worth it!  Go to Hogwarts!  They need you!"

Slytherin's staff was pointed at Voldemort again.  "Let her go," he said.  "This is between us."

"Ah, but if it had been the half-blood McGonagall, I don't think you would have been so keen to let her live, would you?" Voldemort asked.

"Seeing what you are has led me to rethink my beliefs," Slytherin replied.  "You lied to me.  You knew they were alive, that my brother is alive, and yet you told me nothing."

Voldemort pressed the dagger closer to Helga's neck, and the blade began to dig into her skin.  "Every second you delay is killing her, Slytherin."

"Get out while you have the chance, Salazar," Helga gasped.  "The letter… it's the Portkey…"

"Never.  I'm through abandoning my friends."

They made eye contact, and Helga heard his voice inside her head.  _Fight him._

Just before Voldemort slit her throat, she lifted her hands and pushed him away from her.  The blade of the dagger cut deep into her palms, but that damage was trivial to what could have happened.  Voldemort hadn't expected her to be able to fight back, and he was so surprised he dropped the dagger.  "Accio dagger!" Slytherin cried, and the weapon flew into his hand.

Helga didn't get far before Voldemort grabbed her again.  She struggled to break free, but he was too strong.  "Let go of her," said Slytherin.  "Too cowardly to fight me yourself?"

"Then do it," said Voldemort.  "Take that dagger and thrust it into my heart."  He released Helga and took a few steps backward with his arms spread out to his sides.  "Come get me."

_Get to the Portkey_, Slytherin said to Helga telepathically.  _Don't worry about me.  He won't kill me.  He could, but he won't._

He raised the dagger and walked toward Voldemort.

"You idiot," Voldemort hissed.  "You know what this will do."

Helga crept toward the Portkey, trying to be inconspicuous.

It didn't work.  Voldemort saw her.  "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Right as the words left his mouth, Slytherin tackled Voldemort, and the Killing Curse missed Helga.  Slytherin took the dagger and slashed Voldemort in the left arm, then turned around and ran at Helga.  "Let's go!" he cried.  "Now!"

Helga reached for the Portkey with one bloody hand and Slytherin with the other.  She could hear Voldemort shouting "Avada Kedavra!" again, but it was too late; they were long gone…

They reappeared just outside Minerva's classroom, where the Portkey had been placed, bloody, bruised, and breathless.  "Are you all right?" Slytherin asked, rising to his feet and then helping Helga stand.

She nodded.  "It's just my hands, but they'll heal," she said.

He took her hands and began examining her palms.  "These are deep," he said.

"It could have been worse."

He sighed.  "I'm so sorry."

"For what?"

"For taking so long to realize the truth," he answered.  "For coming so close to wasting my second chance.  For putting all of you through this."

"We've missed you."

Slytherin drew her into a tight embrace and kissed the top of her head.  "I won't leave you again," he promised.  "Where is Godric?  I must speak with him."

"My guess would be he's in the Gryffindor common room, trying to learn how to play Go Fish," came a voice from behind.  "Again."

Helga and Slytherin turned around.  Standing behind them was Minerva McGonagall.  "It's good to see you alive, Helga," she said.  She looked at Slytherin.  "And you must be…"

"Salazar Slytherin," he said.

"Minerva McGonagall," she said, introducing herself.  "I wish I could say it's nice to meet you, but these are hardly the circumstances."  
            "My thoughts exactly, Professor McGonagall," said Slytherin.  "I was under the impression that I would be meeting you when you were being held prisoner by Voldemort."

"Yes, I know; Draco Malfoy has told me everything," said Minerva.

"Let me guess: Voldemort threatened him with death, too."

"Well, yes, but he knew we could have protected him," she said.  "Now is not the time to worry about that, though.  We must get to the headmaster's office.  A decision on a course of action must be reached."  She sighed.  "We should find Potter.  He should be in on this, too… Helga, could you take Lord Slytherin to Dumbledore's office and tell them that I'm getting Potter and the others?"

Helga nodded.  "We'll see you there."

"But what about your hands?" Slytherin asked.

"No time for that," Helga said, linking her arm around his.  "Come on!"

Sure enough, Godric Gryffindor was in his house's common room, and sure enough, he was trying to learn how to play Go Fish again with Neville and Parvati.  "Minerva!" he exclaimed when Minerva came into the common room.  "What are you doing here?"

"We have a situation, Godric," she replied.  "We need to meet with Dumbledore immediately."

"What happened?" Gryffindor asked, standing up.

"Helga accidentally picked up a Portkey meant for me a few minutes ago, and it took her to Voldemort and Slytherin," she answered.  "She's back now, and so is Slytherin."

"Salazar?" he said in a tone of mixed awe and disbelief.  "Salazar is _here?"_

She nodded.  "Yes.  We'll need you, Potter, and Rowena in Dumbledore's office at once."

"Harry's at Quidditch practice, Professor McGonagall," said Parvati.

"Thank you, Miss Patil," Minerva said.  "I'll go get him."

"And I'll get Rowena," said Gryffindor, and started walking toward the fireplace.

"Wait a minute!" said Neville.  "That fireplace… where does it go?"

"The Ravenclaw common room," Gryffindor answered.  "Rowena and I built it just before the school opened so we could meet in secret.  The only way someone would know it was here is to find it.  It can't be detected with magic, nor can magic be used inside it."

"That explains a lot," Neville said, looking at Parvati.  She nodded.

"Godric!" Minerva said.

"Oh, right," said Gryffindor, and continued on his way.

Ten minutes later, nearly everyone involved was assembled in Dumbledore's office.  Even Draco Malfoy was there; Dumbledore had decided that his confession made him worthy of forgiveness and protection.  The only two missing were Gryffindor and Rowena, which came as something of a shock.

"Where _are_ those two?" Minerva said, mostly to herself.  "They couldn't have gotten lost…"

As if on cue, the door to Dumbledore's office opened just then, and Gryffindor and Rowena came inside.  "I was over in the Charms department," Rowena explained.  "I apologize for any delays."

"It's quite all right; we're all here now," Dumbledore said.

Gryffindor and Slytherin made eye contact, and for a few seconds, neither one moved.  Then Slytherin closed the distance between them with two large steps and said, "We're on the same side now."  He held out his hand.  "Brother."

Gryffindor took Slytherin's hand, but instead of shaking it, he pulled his brother toward him and hugged him tightly.  Slytherin winced when Gryffindor embraced him, and the others noticed.  "What is it?" Gryffindor asked, releasing him.

Slytherin removed his outer cloak, then tore the off the left sleeve of the tunic he was wearing underneath.  Blood poured out from a deep gash that ran from his shoulder to elbow.

Helga gasped.  "Salazar, what… how did that happen?"

"It happened when I stabbed Voldemort," Slytherin answered, "and _because _I stabbed him."

"Of course," Dumbledore realized.  "Acotta Leiondar… it binds the heir and the descendant.  Anything you do to him, or he does to you, will be felt by both of you."

"So that's what you meant when you told me he wouldn't kill you," said Helga.  "If he killed you, he'd kill himself, too."

"Crickey," said Harry.  "So, if I went over to Lord Gryffindor and chopped off his hand…"

"You'd lose your hand, too," Minerva finished.

"But then why am I alive and Nicolas is dead?" asked Helga.

"Because you didn't kill Nicolas," Dumbledore answered.  "He died of natural causes.  Apparently, though, Lord Slytherin stabbed Voldemort."

"He was going to kill Helga," said Slytherin.  "I had no other choice."

Harry looked at Helga, and his eyes grew wide.  "What happened to your hands?"

"Never mind," said Helga.  "That doesn't matter right now.  What _does_ matter, though, is trying to come up with a way to counter Voldemort."

"Shouldn't that be easy?" Draco asked.  "I mean, the plan to get rid of Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall obviously failed, and he doesn't have you anymore, Lord Slytherin."

"That's exactly why we need to be extra careful," Slytherin said.  "He's lost the element of surprise, which means he's not going to hold anything back."


End file.
